


Falling Away with You

by Shotgun_sinner



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alternate Universe, Bottom Hannibal Lecter, Bottom Will Graham, Dark Will Graham, Descriptions of Graphic Murders, Dialogue Heavy, Docking, Domestic Fluff, Edging, Empath Will Graham, Eventual Profiler Will Graham, F/M, Falling In Love, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, Hannibal and Will are the Same Age, Infidelity, M/M, Murder Husbands, Oral Sex, Private Detective Will Graham, Rimming, Sassy Will Graham, Sexual Tension, Team Sassy Science (Hannibal), Therapy, Top Hannibal Lecter, Top Will Graham, Will Finds Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:42:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 192,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27009790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shotgun_sinner/pseuds/Shotgun_sinner
Summary: Will Graham is a private detective with a fiancée who doesn't understand him, his empathy disorder, or his obsession with catching the Chesapeake Ripper.His night terrors force him into an ultimatum; couple's therapy, or their relationship is done.Will meets his new therapist, Hannibal Lecter, and his entire world is turned upside down.
Relationships: Brief Molly Foster/Will Graham, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 1120
Kudos: 1217





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this came from a VERY old Twitter prompt that asked for Will/Hannibal that are the same age, and I concur entirely. There's a bit of Molly at the beginning, but Hannibal/Will is endgame. This is going to be a LONG story, it's at 80K right now and it's not even close to finished. Join me in this porny, wild ride, and let me know what you think!

“Don’t wear the blue shirt, honey, wear the green one,” Molly tells him, pointing to the green button-down in his closet instead of the blue one he’s already got on his shoulders. Will’s not sure what difference it makes, but he concedes, shrugging off the blue shirt in favor of the green one. 

“Do you think your sister will hate me less if I’m wearing green?” Will asks, cocking his eyebrow at her in the reflection of the mirror.

Molly comes up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Sarah doesn’t hate you,” she laughs. “I think it’s more that she loved Tom, and she’s a raging Catholic who thinks my divorce is going to make me burn in hell. You know how she is.”

You know how she is. Will hates that excuse. Sarah is rude, self-righteous, resentful, and miserable, and Molly consistently forgave all of it, because it's just the way she is. As if her toxic personality should be forgiven simply because she couldn’t be bothered to try being a decent human being.

“Is Paul coming to dinner, too?” Will asks, dreading the response. Paul was a nice enough guy, just… an idiot. 

“She’s obviously bringing her husband, Will,” Molly sighs, letting Will go to grab her heels out of the closet. “I don’t know why you ask like that. Paul likes you.”

Will sighs while buttoning up his shirt. “He doesn’t even know me to like me. Every time he sees me, he asks if I’ve caught the latest game. It’s been two years, and he still doesn’t seem to get that I don’t give a shit about sports.”

“Make nice for me, please,” Molly glares at him, tugging on a pair of flats instead of heels. 

Their guests arrive sometimes just after six, Sarah ignoring his existence while Paul grips his hand in a firm handshake. “What’s good, man?” 

Will contains an eyeroll. He’s not even sure how to answer something like that. “Everything. Can’t complain,” he manages.

“Not with how we’ve been playing, right? I think we’re going to the playoffs,” Paul replies with conviction. “You catch last week’s game?”

Will grits his teeth, containing the sigh that wants to escape his mouth. “No, I don’t watch football.”

They settle in the kitchen while Molly arranges the meatloaf and mashes the potatoes. Sarah glares at him over her glass of wine. “Wally isn’t joining us tonight?”

Molly turns from the stove, shrugging, “Tom asked for him. They’re at the Ravens game.”

“Lucky little dude,” Paul grins, chugging his beer. “Should’ve checked to see if Tom had an extra ticket. That would have been the tits, you know? You mind if we put the game on?”

Molly shakes her head, grinning. “Nope, go ahead.”

“How is Tom?” Sarah asks, looking to Will pointedly.

“Sarah, I have no idea,” Molly sighs. “We’re divorced. I don’t check in on him, anymore.”

“Molly is engaged to me, now,” Will interjects, and Sarah rolls her eyes. “I’m doing well, by the way.”

“Dinner is done,” Molly announces, breaking up the tension that’s rising in the room.

They settle at the dining table, and conversation is stalled. Paul’s eyes are fixed on the television, and he swears and woops at different things that are happening on the screen. Sarah is on her fourth glass of wine, which means she’s about to get self-righteous any minute. Molly is touching his hand occasionally, as if bracing him for what’s to come.

“That should have been a fucking flag,” Paul grumbles, chugging half his beer down.

“So, Will,” Sarah says with an almost-slur. “Are you still taking walks in the middle of the night?”

Will drops his fork, turning to Molly with a pinched expression. “You told her?”

“Fuckin blind refs, man,” Paul says to no one.

“Will,” Molly sighs.

“Of course, she told me,” Sarah laughs. “When you’re having violent nightmares that put her and Wally in danger, she calls me. When are you going to either get help, or walk away?”

“I’d never hurt her or Wally,” Will replies offensively. 

“He was down!” Paul bellows out, slapping the table hard enough to rattle the dishes. “Fuckin fumble, my ass!”

“You can promise that? When you wake up with no idea where you are, sweaty and disoriented?” Sarah says doubtfully while swirling her wine glass.

“I have night terrors,” Will explains through gritted teeth. “The things that I do for work-“

“You don’t have to do them though, do you?” Sarah interrupts him. “You’re a private investigator, Will. So, who is having you privately investigate the Chesapeake Ripper?”

Will sips his whiskey, doing his best not to toss the whole thing down his throat. “I have skills, Sarah. I know I can catch him. I know it.”

“You know what I think?” Sarah asks, and Molly leans forward to touch her arm.

“Don’t, Sarah,” Molly pleads.

“I think you enjoy looking at those bloodied pictures,” Sarah blurts out. “You haven’t ever gone to church. You allowed this… evil inside of you. It causes nightmares because you’re… sick in the head.”

“Sarah,” Molly breathes out, while Will fumes. He tosses the rest of his drink back, gearing up for all the things he’s never said. 

“You know what I think?” he asks her with a grin. “I think you’d find something to hate about anyone that Molly brought home after Tom. He was good looking, wasn’t he? You liked him. I could feel it rolling off of you every time he drops Walter off or picks him up. Just a little glimpse, right? Longing. Arousal. I can feel it, Sarah. So out of the two of us, who’s burning in hell?”

Sarah’s face blushes scarlet, while Molly’s mouth falls open in shock. Paul doesn’t seem to even notice that there’s an argument happening, he’s still so engrossed in the game.

Sarah slaps Paul’s arm, standing from the table. “We’re leaving, Paul,” she says through clenched teeth.

“C’mon, babe,” Paul sighs, holding a hand out towards the television. “Two-minute warning.”

“I said we’re leaving,” she replies bitterly. 

Molly stands to follow her towards the door, murmuring apologies that Will rolls his eyes when he hears. Paul belches, placing his mostly empty beer on the table. “Thanks for having us, dude.”

Will glares up at him but doesn’t respond. Not that he’d notice, his eyes are still glued to the tv.

Will pours himself another whiskey while Molly collects the dishes on the table, slamming them around to let Will know she’s unhappy. “What the hell was that, Will?”

“That was me being fed up with your sister’s shit,” he replies easily.

“She is not in love with my ex,” she argues. “I don’t even know where you’d get an idea like that.”

Will sighs, sipping his drink as he follows her into the kitchen. “You don’t seem to understand my… gift.”

“Disorder,” she spits out.

“Either way,” he says with a wave of his hand. “I can feel it. Just like I can pick up how you still feel about him when he comes by, too.”

Her hands pause as she’s loading the dishwasher, and she turns to him with a sour expression. “You need help. Not everyone is fucking in love with Tom.”

“I didn’t say everyone was,” he replies.

“You seriously need help. You’re…” she huffs out a breath. “You don’t sleep. You’re sleep walking and sweating when you do. You scare Wally when he finds you in the house, awake but not awake. I was talking to Tom about it-“

“You fucking didn’t,” Will interjects, scrubbing a hand across his face. “Why?”

“Because his son lives here,” she replies with a slam of the dishwasher door. “His son, Will. He should know what’s going on in the house. Wally was going to tell him, anyway.”

“I have nightmares because of the things I look at for work, Molly.”

“They aren’t for work, though. They have people in the FBI for that.” She laughs, but it’s without humor. “And the FBI thought you were too unstable to work for them. So, once again, why are you doing it?”

Will’s at a loss for words. She loves throwing it in his face that he was rejected from the FBI, and he doesn’t know why. He knows that his empathy disorder makes her uncomfortable. It makes everyone uncomfortable. What he doesn’t understand is why it makes her so defensive.

“I do it because I can see things that the FBI can’t,” he replies carefully. 

“I’m done with this,” she says immediately. “You need help. You’re scaring my son. You could get yourself killed walking around while sleeping. I just… something needs to give, Will. Agree to therapy, or we’re done.”

He’s never done well with ultimatums, and he’s almost tempted to agree that they’re done. He doesn’t though. “Fine. But we go to couple’s therapy.”

She laughs, stilling her hands that were wiping the counter. “And I need a therapist because?”

“Because you don’t understand my gift at all.”

“Disorder,” she corrects again, and Will clenches his fists. 

“You don’t understand it, and I think you could use a little empathy, yourself.”

“If it means that you’ll go, then fine. I’ll go, too. I’ll call Doctor Lecter’s office, make an appointment.”

“The fucking hack that you went to with Tom?” Will laughs, sipping his whiskey. 

“He was a good therapist,” she argues. “Tom and I got married too young. That’s all there was to it. The things Doctor Lecter suggested were working, but Tom didn’t want to keep going.”

“Call his office, then,” Will chuckles, sipping his whiskey. 

The next morning as Will is heading into his office, his phone goes off. He’s driving, so he doesn’t bother looking to see who it is before he answers. “Hello?”

“Good morning sunshine,” Freddie greets him sarcastically. 

He rolls his eyes as he turns into the parking lot for his small, rented office. “What can I do for you?”

“There’s been another murder, and I think it’s our boy,” she replies, and it sounds to Will like she’s smiling.

“Don’t sound so depressed about that,” he chuckles. “When?”

“Last night. I got to the scene and the cop I’ve been… uh, well,”

“Fucking,” he supplies helpfully.

“Fine, yeah. He let me take some pictures. I was wondering if our arrangement still stands?”

Will hates her. Hates her with a fiery passion, but she was a force of nature at her job. She was how he was able to get the photos of the crime scenes in the first place. In exchange, he’d offer insights on the crimes that she could post with the article. It is a symbiotic relationship. One that Will detests whole-heartedly.

“I’m just getting to my office,” he responds. “You can come by whenever.”

“See you in twenty, Graham,” she replies, and the line cuts out.

He heads inside and starts a pot of coffee, then goes to his desk to gather the paperwork he has on a missing teenager. Her mother was looking for her, and he’s pretty sure she’s living with her much-older boyfriend. He just had to track down where the pervert’s apartment was, and he was close.

Freddie walks in as he’s making his coffee, her sharp heels clicking on the tile floors. “Wow, you look like shit,” she says with a grin, settling herself at the chair opposite his desk.

“Not sleeping well,” he replies, sipping his coffee with a little moan. He wishes he could put it through an IV, he needed the caffeine so severely.

“Well no kidding,” she muses, looking over the open, bloody, file that he has on the Ripper. 

Will walks over, settling into his seat. “What makes you think it was the Ripper last night?”

“Well, there were two murders already,” Freddie begins, pulling out a folder from her leather shoulder bag. “You say he kills in sounders of three, this would make three.”

She hands him the folder, and he opens it, glancing down at the photos with a frown. “Christ.”

“It’s our guy, isn’t it?” Freddie grins.

“Shh,” Will scolds her, closing his eyes to rid the room of distractions.

A woman on her knees. Pale white gown opened between her breasts. Her insides are missing. All organs removed. Her hands are lifted, palms up. Reverence? No. Supplication. A beg for forgiveness.

Her tongue is cut out. Apparent from the wide-open jaw. The effect adds to the illusion of supplication, as if in awe of the reckoning she’s found for herself. 

She said something to him. Maybe where she worked? A career in service industry, perhaps. Rude to him in some way. He takes her tongue so that no further vulgarity can be uttered by her mouth. He takes her insides. She’s as hollow and empty now as the veneer she puts forward to the world. 

The entire scene is completely bloodless, implying that the murder obviously took place elsewhere. It’s clean, neat. Efficient. Each cut is perfect. Even the placement of the gown creates the illusion of modesty. His monster is not one for perverse displays.

“It’s him,” Will agrees, clenching his eyes shut for a moment. “Do we have any info on the victim, yet? What she did for a living?”

Freddie shakes her head. “Nope. Jack Crawford had just arrived. He booted me when he saw me.”

“She’ll be in the service industry. A waitress, maybe a grocery store. Higher end, our guy is not one to slum in a fast-food chain or a Walmart. She said something to him. Maybe months ago, maybe years ago. She was rude. Discourteous in some way. He took her tongue to keep her quiet. He took her insides to match how he viewed her. Empty. Hollow. Her hands lifted in supplication. This pig was asking forgiveness, and he gave it to her the only way he knows how.”

Freddie was nodding while writing quickly, glancing up at him occasionally with a little smirk on her face. “So that ends his bloodless sounder. Now he’ll revert to the other way he kills, according to you.”

“Now the monster plays, yes,” Will agrees. “In a few weeks we’ll find vicious, bloody, murders. Ones bourn of aggression and brutality. They won’t look anything like this. The FBI will think it’s another killer.”

“Why do you think it’s not?”

“The victims are all the same,” Will says, flicking the folder closed with his wrist. “All service industry workers. The interviews with their co-workers all agree that they could be rude, sometimes. I think their rudeness is the thing that gets them on whatever list he has. His sounders happen months to a year apart. He couldn’t wait that long.”

“So, what the hell does he do with all the organs?” Freddie wonders, flipping the folder open to stare at the scene.

“That, I don’t know yet.”

She gnaws her lip for a minute, glancing up at him with a shrug. “Well, I’ve got to make a few calls. Find out what she did for a living before I publish this. Thanks for the insight,” she says, standing up and brushing her leopard print skirt.

“Anytime,” he says absently. “Will you send me a few copies of the photos?”

“Obviously,” she sighs, arching an eyebrow at him. “Get some sleep. You look fifty years old, Graham.”

He laughs, leaning back in his chair. “Always good to see you, Freddie.”

She leaves, and he busies himself with a few smaller cases that he’s working on until after lunch.

Molly calls him just after two, and he answers with a sigh. “Hey,” he says warily. He’s hoping she’s not calling to give him an appointment time.

“Hey sweet man,” she says, and he can hear she’s smiling. “I’m texting you an address. Doctor Lecter has agreed to meet us at four tonight for our first appointment.”

Will hesitates, thinking of all the things he still wants to wrap up before tomorrow. “I don’t think that works, Molly. I’ve got to-”

“No,” she cuts him off, her tone clipped. “I told you that we do this, or we’re done. Dr. Lecter has been kind enough to squeeze us in, so that’s that.”

Will drops the phone away from his ear, glaring down at it for a moment before picking it back up. “I’ll be there for four. I’ve got to go, then. I have a lot to do before I leave.”

“Alright,” she concedes. “See you soon.”

He hangs up abruptly, gathering some folders and getting to work.

He’s nervous as he walks into the building at quarter of four. Every experience he’s had with psychiatrists, and there have been many, have always been unpleasant. He finds them predictable. Too eager to get into his head and not eager enough to help him sort out the mess inside of it. He usually is aware of their desire to pick him apart. Their motivation to be the one that unlocks the mysteries of a condition as rare as Will has. He knows they want the notoriety with their peers that they were lucky enough to delve into such chaos. Not once, in any of his encounters, has he felt that what he wants comes before what they want.

It’s infuriating, because for what therapy costs, he should leave feeling more like a person and less like a science experiment.

He heads into the waiting room, and he’s slightly taken aback by it. It looks… homey. A little stuffy for Will’s taste, with the artwork on the walls and dark furniture, but he appreciates it more than the sterile whites and beiges of other offices he’s been to.

The door opens, and Will turns to find a man maybe only a few years older than himself, dressed impeccably in a slate gray suit with a deep purple button-down. The lighter gray tie he’s wearing has vines of flowers on it in varying shades of purple. Will barely glances up at his face, choosing instead to avert his eyes just over his broad shoulder. “You must be Will Graham,” Dr. Lecter says warmly with an accent that Will can’t place. 

Will nods, “I’m early, I know.”

Dr. Lecter holds his hand out, and Will takes it absently for a fleeting handshake. His hand is warm and impossibly soft, and Will looks up briefly to take in his face. Sharp cheekbones, sparkling dark eyes, and an upward twist of lips are all his notices before his own eyes dance away again. “It’s fine,” he assures him. “Not one for eye contact, I take it?”

Will glances up again with a frown, his eyes glaring without meaning to. “Not really, no. They’re… distracting.”

“There are some who suggest that eyes are the windows to the human soul, if one believes in such a thing.”

Will snorts. “Not in that way. More like, is that a burst vein? Their whites are too white. Does he have Hepatitis? That kind of a thing,” Will is blushing while his mouth keeps moving, and he chances a glance up again to note the mild amusement on the smooth face looking down at him. Dr. Lecter hasn’t stepped away after their handshake, and his proximity is much closer than Will likes. This close, Will can smell the woodsy scent of his cologne, sharp and clean in his nose. 

Molly chooses that moment to burst in the door, huffing as she hoists her purse over her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Lecter. I had to drop Wally off at Tom’s, traffic was insane.”

Dr. Lecter smiles, taking her hand in his. “It’s no trouble at all. It’s good to see you, Ms. Foster.”

“Molly, please,” she grins, looking up at him with… appreciation? Will frowns when he sees it, but Dr. Lecter is ushering them into the office, urging them to feel at home.

Molly settles out on a green sofa while Will paces the large space. It’s even more grandiose than his waiting room. There are bookshelves everywhere, stuffed to the brim with books and expensive trinkets. The loft space above them has even more books, and he briefly thinks of the library from Beauty and the Beast, for some reason.

“Please, Mr. Graham, have a seat,” Dr. Lecter says, settling into a leather armchair gracefully.

“I’m good where I am, thanks,” Will retorts, and Molly huffs.

“Will, come on,” she pleads, glancing at Dr. Lecter in embarrassment. 

Dr. Lecter holds his hand up to her, turning his head to regard Will who is perusing a bookshelf. “It’s fine, Molly. As long as he’s comfortable.”

“Comfortable,” Will mutters distastefully while stuffing his hands in his pockets. As if he’d be comfortable with someone poking around in his head.

“I’d like to start with getting to know you both. Are you still working at the animal shelter, Molly?” he asks.

Molly nods, settling out into the sofa a bit. “I am, yes.”

“And how is it that you two met?”

“Will loves dogs,” Molly grins, turning to Will with a small smile. “He came in to adopt one, and he volunteered to walk a few of the dogs sometimes. I got to know him, and well, here we are.”

“What is it that you do, Mr. Graham?”

“Will,” he corrects with a grimace while trailing his fingers against the spines of very old books. “I’m a private investigator.”

Dr. Lecter tips his head as though he’s considering that. “Very different career choices. What is it that brings you both to me?”

Molly sighs, glancing at Will briefly before replying. “Will has… night terrors. They’ve gotten really intense. He sleepwalks, he fights in his sleep. It’s… gotten to the point where it can’t be ignored, anymore. I don’t feel safe. My son doesn’t feel safe. We needed to do… something.”

‘It’s from my work, Molly,” Will argues, turning to her with a frown.

“It’s not your work, Will, it’s your hobby that’s causing it,” she argues back.

“What hobby is this?” Dr. Lecter asks, turning to Will with a slight angling of his body. 

“I’m investigating the Chesapeake Ripper,” Will replies while pacing the office again. “Is it bad that we’re in couple’s therapy before we’re even married?”

Dr. Lecter smiles, and it’s polite. Indifferent. A mask. “Not bad, no. If anything, it demonstrates your desire to work through issues before they become problems. Although I must be honest, I’m not certain why couple’s therapy is necessary in this case.”

Will turns to him with a glare, instantly on defense for the suggestion that he is the only one that needs some guidance, here. “I have a gift,” Will replies.

“A disorder,” Molly corrects, and Will turns his glare to her briefly before turning away from them both. 

“An empathy disorder,” Will says softly, walking towards the large windows that look out over the street. “Too many mirror neurons. My nightmares are because I… connect too well with everything around me. Even the… violence of the Ripper.”

“It’s not your job to do that,” Molly reminds him with a shake of her head. “They have people better qualified than you to investigate that monster.”

Will doesn’t respond, doesn’t know how to, for a minute. “We’re here as a couple because my gift,”

“Disorder,” Molly interjects, and Will snaps.

“It’s a gift, Molly,” he replies, and his tone is louder and harder than he means for it to be. “It makes her uncomfortable. It’s always… made her uneasy. She hates when I just… know things. When I pick up little emotions from her or her family.”

Dr. Lecter licks his lips, adjusting himself in his chair while turning back to Molly. “It makes him withdrawn,” Molly explains, wringing her hands in her lap. “Sometimes it feels like he’s… distant.”

“Creating physical or emotional distance for someone with Will’s… diagnosis is most likely a coping mechanism. When he feels overcome by the sentiments and thoughts of those around him, he likely withdraws as a means to regain control of his own thoughts and feelings. While I can understand why that would seem offensive, it shouldn’t be taken that way.”

Will turns to him, mildly surprised that he understands his disorder that well. “Okay, but can you fix it?” Molly asks, and Will’s face crumples as he turns away again, hiding the deep ache that the question causes.

Dr. Lecter shifts in his seat, and the noise of the leather makes Will turn to take in his reaction. Will notices that he looks mildly uncomfortable by the question, his perfectly maintained mask slipping just a bit. “Molly,” he says carefully. “There is no cure for Will’s condition. It’s not something that can be fixed, as he is not broken.”

Molly looks… defeated by the response. “But you can help him, can’t you?”

Dr. Lecter turns back to Will, smiling softly. “I can help him in the sense that I could give him a safe space to talk about his feelings. I can aid him in fine-tuning his gift so that it’s less of a burden. Of course, only if Will wants that.”

“I don’t feel like I need help,” Will replies, glancing at Molly who is decidedly angry by Will’s response.

“You don’t think that? For Christ’s sake Will, we can’t even be intimate with the fucking lights on!”

Will blushes scarlet, hiding his face by looking back towards the bookshelves. 

“Is intimacy an issue?” Dr. Lecter asks, his tone deliberately devoid of emotion. 

“Yes,” Molly replies. “When we are… intimate… the lights have to be off. We have to be under the covers. Is it too much to ask for a little playful sex? Like in the daylight?”

“Being in the dark helps me focus,” Will replies, rubbing at his temples. “I pick up everything, Molly. Including how you aren’t into it.”

“Of course, I’m into it!” Molly argues, her mouth pursed in indignation.

Will laughs, but it’s a hollow sound. There are so many things he wants to bring up, but he brings up the safest things instead. “You look at your eBook, sometimes. You think about how you hope I’ll be done soon so that you can read one more chapter before bed. You look up at me sometimes like… you’re thinking of someone else.”

She is, too. He’s not ready to talk about that yet, though. “I’m not… thinking of anyone else,” Molly says while blushing hotly. “If you feel like I’m not into it, maybe it’s because I’m tired of hiding in the dark.”

“Molly,” he sighs, turning away again.

“You shouldn’t take offense for the environment that Will creates for your intimacy,” Dr. Lecter tells her. “He’s doing what he needs to do in order to be with you in that way. Someone with Will’s gifts would need to distance himself in some way, and he’s doing that for you. For the both of you.”

“I want him to be… I don’t know, eager? Is that too much to ask?” she wonders.

“It might be helpful to recognize that Will picks up your emotions and reflects them back. I would suggest that waiting might be a good idea, Molly. Wait until you want him and let him feel just how much you do.”

Will feels… surprised at the level of understanding that he has of him, and his condition. He was certain there would be more questions about his gift, but there’s hardly any. He turns to Dr. Lecter with a thankful expression, and the doctor returns the look, smiling softly.

“So your suggestion is to have less sex? Really?” Molly asks incredulously. “We barely do already.”

Dr. Lecter looks to her regretfully. “I’m saying that you should wait until a moment when he can pick up your feelings. If you’re engaging in sex because it’s something to do, Will’s disorder will pick up that it’s out of… obligation. The feelings will be returned, and that’s where the lack of connection begins.”

“Fine,” she shrugs, turning away in annoyance.

“Will,” Dr. Lecter says softly. “I’d like to see you separately, if that is something you’d be interested in doing. I don’t think your disorder is unmanaged, but I do feel I can help you, if you’d be inclined.”

Will wants to say no. He wants to say that he doesn’t need anyone poking around in his head. Dr. Lecter hasn’t done that, though. He’s been wildly compassionate about his gift so far, and Will feels for the first time in his life that maybe someone might be able to help him. “Yes,” he replies eventually. “I’d like that, I think.”

“I have an open appointment on Thursdays at 730,” Dr. Lecter replies. “Would that work for you?”

The timing is actually better than perfect. He wouldn’t have to rush here from the office. “That’s great, thank you.”

Molly looks mildly pleased that Will has agreed to private therapy, and Will rolls his eyes when he sees her delight.

“What I suggest for the follow week is this. Will, when you’re feeling overwhelmed by the emotions you’re picking up, tell Molly about them. And Molly, when you’re feeling amorous, let Will feel it. Don’t engage in intimacy out of obligation or boredom.”

“Okay,” Molly says slowly. “It’s kind of difficult to feel… I don’t know, amorous, sometimes. He’s exhausted all the time. He sleepwalks and has night sweats. My son woke up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, and Will was just… standing there. In the dark. Not awake, but awake. He scared Wally, and honestly, he’s scaring me, too.”

Dr. Lecter tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, turning to regard Will with a raised eyebrow. “May I inquire about these nightmares, Will?”

Will sighs, pacing the length of the bookcases. The books are written in several different languages; English, French, Italian, and he thinks maybe German. He wonders briefly how many languages Dr. Lecter can speak, and then he blushes when he realizes how long he’s gone without answering the question. “They’re always different,” he replies softly, trailing a finger along the length of a red leather binding. He glances over to Molly, adjusting his glasses on his nose. “I’d rather talk about them in our solo session, Dr. Lecter,” he admits.

Dr. Lecter nods, “Of course.”

“Why can’t I be here for it?” Molly asks, her tone clipped and offended. “I want to know about them.”

“They’re… not really violent,” Will admits, shrugging his shoulders as he comes around to settle himself in the leather chair opposite Dr. Lecter’s own. “They’re actually relatively… I don’t know, tame, I guess. They’re just vivid. Like it’s actually happening, no matter how surreal or improbable it is.”

Dr. Lecter must be able to pick up how uncomfortable Will is, because he crosses his long legs, angling his body towards Will minutely. “We can save this conversation for our private sessions,” he replies. “Let’s discuss the two of you during your combined sessions.”

Will nods, while Molly huffs. “I want to hear about them,” she repeats again. 

“I don’t want to discuss them,” Will replies curtly. “Not with you, and not with Dr. Lecter. I’m willing to try, though. During my private sessions.”

“Is intimacy the only area in which you have concerns?” Dr. Lecter asks, turning his head from Will, to Molly. 

“He’s rude to my family,” Molly replies immediately, and Will laughs.

“Your sister is the rudest woman that has ever walked the earth,” Will says, still laughing. “She consistently makes comments that I’m insane. She is condescending. She lusts after Tom maybe more than you-” Will bites his tongue, realizing he’s said more than he meant to say. 

Molly’s mouth hangs open, her face changing colors while her hand grips her purse hard enough to creak the leather. “More than I do? Are you kidding me? Why the hell would you say something like that?”

“It’s… forget it. It’s not uncommon, Molly,” Will placates her, rubbing his hand across his jaw. “Everyone… thinks of other people, sometimes. I just catch it better than others do. Forget that I said that.”

Her mouth opens and closes a few times, and she turns her eyes away from Will. She does it when she’s about to lie, and this time is no different. “I do not think of Tom, Will. Never. He and I are over, and we’ve been over for a while, now.”

“Sure,” Will replies dismissively. It’s not worth fighting about, he reasons.

“Perhaps,” Dr. Lecter says, dissipating the tension a bit by interrupting their banter. “We’ll start with the intimacy. We’re out of time for today, but we can discuss this more next week, if you’re both agreeable?” Will and Molly glance at one another, then nod. “Good,” he gives a small nod, too. “Try my suggestion, Molly.”

“Don’t have sex unless I want it,” she says with a huff.

“Unless you want it with Will,” Dr. Lecter amends, and Molly flushes scarlet. 

“Alright,” she replies softly.

He stands fluidly from the leather chair, rebuttoning his fitted blazer with a flick of his fingers. Will and Molly stand too, and Dr. Lecter turns to Will with a small smile. “And I’ll see you on Thursday at 730?”

“Yeah,” Will agrees, his eyes settled on the sharp arch of a cheekbone. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure, Will,” he replies warmly. 

Once out of the office, Molly rounds on him on the sidewalk. “I don’t think he can help us,” she says immediately. “I think he can help you, though.”

Will snorts. “If I have to go, then so do you. Everything he said in there was accurate, Molly. He’s the first therapist I’ve gone to that seems to just… understand my… uh, disorder. You need to hear what he suggests. I think it’s important for you to try to understand me better, don’t you think?”

She tugs her blond hair out of her eyes, gnawing her bottom lip. “If you could just talk to me, then he wouldn’t be necessary.”

“If it were that easy, I’d do that,” Will agrees with her. “It’s not, though. Not for me, anyway.”

Her face is the one that she makes when she’s unhappy with something that Will has done, and he glances away from it. “I’ve got to pick up Wally from Tom’s,” she says, changing the subject. “Are you coming home?”

He shakes his head. “I’ve got a few things that I need to wrap up at the office, but I’ll see you later.”

She goes up on her tip toes, pressing a chaste kiss to his mouth and he sighs, lacing his fingers through her hair as he kisses her back. “Till later, sweet man.”

He forces a smile as she walks away, turning to go towards his own car. It hasn’t occurred to him how much they have to work through. She expressed disapproval about almost everything he brings to the table in their relationship, and the shock of it is almost insulting. When he had first met her, her wide smile and genuine warmth was his favorite thing about her. She has secrets, of course. He knows she still loves Tom, at least in some way. They didn’t get divorced because of cheating or anything scandalous. They just got married too young. He has an idea that Wally played a little part in that, but she’s never admitted as much out loud.

He’s never had a real girlfriend or boyfriend before. At least not one that’s stuck around like Molly has. He’s too introverted, too inside his own head. He builds forts to keep other people’s emotions out so that they don’t drown out his own wants and needs. The forts do their job, but they also usually prevent people from connecting with him, too. Molly demolished his forts, forcing her way into his life. He thinks that initially he might have appreciated it. She is the only person to ever even try, and he respects that she put in the effort, at least.

Somewhere along the line, though, his awkwardness and distance have created a rift. He hasn’t even noticed it, and he feels a flare of guilt over it. Sure, she thinks of Tom while they’re having sex sometimes. She looks at him on occasion like a science experiment that’s gone awry. The few times he’s caught that expression on her face, he’s tried to read into it, but he can’t place it. It’s not based on their conversations, or even their intimacy. He wants to ask her what she’s thinking about when he sees that look on her face, but he’s honestly terrified to find out. Something about it makes him aware that whatever her answer is will end them, and he’s not ready for that, either.

When he proposed to her, he knows he loved her. His reasons are decidedly selfish, and the thought sends another bloom of guilt through his gut. Her warmth, her kindness, and her determination to know him was unlike anything or anyone he’d ever known in his life, including his own father. He wanted to latch onto her with both hands. Anything to avoid the sting of loneliness he’s felt throughout his entire life before her.

Now, he wonders if being alone might be better. Being engaged to her means he’s engaged to her family. Her mother hates him, her sister thinks he’s a sociopath, and her son barely acknowledges that he’s alive, most days. She resents him for not being more involved in her son’s life, but how the fuck can he be? Tom makes sure his son knows what a weirdo his mother’s new beau is, and Molly doesn’t do anything to discourage the notion.

He’s frustrated by the time he gets back to his office. Something needs to change. Something in him, or something in his life, because he’s unhappy.

He hopes for the first time in his life that his new psychiatrist can help him.


	2. Chapter 2

The following two days go by quickly for him, as he’s finally found a teenage girl that ran away from home. Her mother is thrilled when he calls her to tell her where her daughter is, at least until he tells her that she’s living with her thirty-year-old boyfriend. It doesn’t matter too much, he gets a check for finding her, not for solving their family drama.

He’s happy because he can start his profile on the Ripper, which is something he hasn’t had the time to do with all the little cases he’s been working on. The profile takes up the majority of his time, and he’s pleased with his paper so far.

So, his night terror escalation comes as a bit of a surprise. He apparently crawled out of the window onto the roof last night, and Molly is more frustrated with him now than ever.

He’s practically counting down the minutes until 730, because he needs to talk to Dr. Lecter. He needs to talk to someone, anyway.

His eagerness prompts him to arrive early again, and he’s pacing the waiting area for fifteen minutes before Dr. Lecter opens the door for him. “Will,” he greets warmly. “Please, come in.”

Will barely acknowledges him as he brushes past him, the familiar scent of his spicy cologne wafting under his nose as he breezes by. He paces the large room, scrubbing his hand at his jaw and tugging at the curls at the nape of his neck when Dr. Lecter comes to his side. Too close. Far, far too close. 

Will steps back, heading to the ladder that leads to the loft area above. “I need more space,” Will says, putting as much distance between himself and Dr. Lecter as possible. “Do you mind?” he asks, gesturing to the above space with a wave of his hand.

The mask Dr. Lecter wears slips a little, and genuine surprise shows for a second before he schools his face back into a placid expression. “Of course,” he assures him.

Will scuttles up the ladder, pacing the loft area. The whole room is sort of permeated with Dr. Lecter’s scent, and it distracts Will enough that he stops pacing and breathes in for a few minutes. “I woke up on the roof last night,” he says eventually, leaning his forearms over the railing to look down at his psychiatrist.

Dr. Lecter looks surprised by that, pacing the far end of the room so he doesn’t have to crane his neck to look up at Will. “A night terror?”

“It’s not… it’s not violent,” Will replies, tugging his hands back into his curls. “I’ve been working on my profile for the Ripper, and I guess some things have… snuck under the walls I’ve built.”

“A profile?” Dr. Lecter repeats with a quirked eyebrow. “May I ask what your major was in college?”

“Forensic science,” Will replies, his tone somewhat annoyed by the judgmental way that his psychiatrist asks the question. “George Washington University.”

“No small degree,” Dr. Lecter muses. “I wonder why you would choose a career as a private investigator if your interests lie in criminology. Why not apply to the FBI?”

“I did,” Will replies bitterly. “I was rejected because I failed the psych eval.” He resumes pacing the loft, tugging his hand through his curls. Dr. Lecter follows him along the opposite wall so he can maintain a visual of him. “Too unstable,” he adds with a rueful grin.

Dr. Lecter considers this, pacing his office while Will runs laps above him. “Would you like to share this profile with me? I may have some input.”

Will laughs, and it’s entirely condescending. “No offense, Doc, but a couple’s therapist isn’t going to be able to help me with a profile.”

Dr. Lecter’s sudden stillness prompts Will to stop moving, too. He turns to him curiously, noting the sour expression on the regal man’s face. “I spent the first three years of my practice specializing in forensic psychology. I’ve written articles on marginalization. I think I could keep up, Will.”

Will turns to him in surprise, “Really? Why did you change specialties?”

“Too much violence,” he says with a chuckle. “Although couple’s therapy can certainly be violent, on occasion. Come down, please. Give me the summation of this profile.”

Will finds himself grinning, imagining a few miserable couple’s ending their therapy in a slap fight, and the little chuckle that escapes his mouth is a surprise. “Okay,” he concedes. 

He comes down the ladder, settling into the chair that he sat in the last time. Dr. Lecter approaches carefully, settling out in the seat across from him. “Is this alright? Would you like me further away?”

Will shakes his head, blushing a bit at his ridiculousness. “No, you’re fine.”

Hannibal smooths down the deep red sweater he’s wearing, and Will notices his frame for the first time. He’s… in very good shape, to put it mildly. He realizes suddenly why Molly was looking at him in appreciation the other day, and the thought makes him a little bitter. His psychiatrist is gorgeous, and of course Molly would notice that.

“The profile, Will,” Hannibal says with a smirk, and Will blushes to his hairline when he recognizes that he’s been caught giving him a once-over.

“Right,” he says, averting his eyes. “The FBI thinks he’s in his fifties because he’s got surgical skills and he’s so neat and tidy, but I think he’s younger, more like mid to late thirties. The displays are not easy to put together, which implies he’s in his prime. He’s likely worked as a surgeon or a mortician, though I doubt the mortician angle. He doesn’t like starting with a dead canvas. He’s white, but not American. He’s exotic, somehow. Some of his displays are perfect recreations of Italian and French paintings, but not well-known ones. He appreciates art, and he shows it with the… attention to detail in his displays. 

“He’s very intelligent, and he’s well-off. Most of the victims worked at a high-end grocery store, club, or restaurant, which means he frequents these places. He chooses them because they’ve offended him, somehow. Rudeness, probably. He sees them as pigs; below him in every sense of the word. He’s social, a purveyor of the arts. He’s not married, very likely never was. His proclivities would prevent him from forming attachments to someone that could get too close. 

“Every six to eight months he completes a sounder of three victims, all with the usual bloodless grace and beauty you’d expect from him. However, the FBI doesn’t seem to realize he’s killing between these sounders.”

Dr. Lecter looks almost blandly impressed. “What leads you to believe that?”

“They’re completely unlike him. Violent. Messy. Bloody. But all of the victims, no matter whether they’re in a sounder or between have missing organs. Always different ones, but still surgically removed. Clean, sharp, cuts. The only thing that changes is the brush stroke.”

Dr. Lecter regards him for a moment, tipping his head. The angle makes the light dip over his cheekbone, highlighting the curve of his face favorably. “You make reference to his mutilations as artwork.”

“They are,” Will elects to agree. “They’re horrible, yeah, but they’re… beautiful, too. Every detail is so painstakingly done. Even his violent scenes have a grace to them. Slipping into his head is easy. It’s… neat in there. Well organized.”

Dr. Lecter crosses his long legs, one knee resting over the other. “When you recreate these crimes in your mind, you assume the perspective of the killer?”

“I know how that sounds,” Will responds defensively. “I can assume anyone’s perspective. Not just violent killers.”

The sharp smile he gets in return knocks his defenses down a bit. “I never suggested differently, Will. I just wasn’t aware that was something you could do.”

“I know,” Will sighs. “It’s just… I’ve lived in this guy’s head for the last year or so, since I decided to look into him. It’s gotten to the point where I can just glance at a crime scene photo and know whether it’s him or not.”

“So, when you say that something’s snuck under the walls, you actually mean you’ve opened the door.” Dr. Lecter answers softly. “It’s entirely possible that you’re spending more time in his mind than you are in yours.”

Wil laughs. “I’m not having an identity crisis, Doctor Lecter. To think like him, I have to abandon certain comfort zones. So maybe you’re right about that. I’ve definitely let him in, but I’m still me.”

“Tell me about your nightmares, Will,” and it’s not posed as a question. It’s a moderate demand, and Will finds himself answering before he decides if he wants to. 

“There’s a stag,” he blurts out, and he blushes pathetically. “A large, black, stag. He’s… not violent, but I pick up a sense of… aggression from him. He’s always alone. Always… menacing. The latest nightmares have been of me trying to kill him. I chase him through the woods with knives or guns trying to take him down. I’ve never managed it.”

Dr. Lecter considers that for a moment, his lips curling slightly with what might be a smile. “From ancient times, the stag was a strong symbol in dreams. It warns you not to make impulsive decisions. A stag can symbolize that you will not be able to accomplish whatever it is that you decided to do, mainly because of your ego or pride.”

Will chuckles, scratching at the stubble on his chin. “And what is it that I’ve decided not to do, Doctor Lecter?”

The curl of his lips turns into a grin. “It’s merely an interpretation. A stag may also represent male masculinity and virility. In essence, his sexuality.”

Will glares at him, leaning forward in his chair. “Are you suggesting that I’m repressed? That maybe I’m fighting against my sexuality? I’m an openly bisexual man. I have no concealed shame about who I am. I wish my issues were as simple as that.”

“Forgive me,” he replies with a grimace. “That was not my intention, I assure you.”

“It’s fine,” Will assures him with a sigh. “Maybe I… I might’ve read into that more than I should’ve. It’s… what I do.”

Dr. Lecter glances away for a moment, and Will can feel the bubbling remorse on him like a coat. “I merely meant to infer that there is something in you that you are not embracing. I’d like to give you some homework if you’ll allow that. For the following week, I’d like you to make conscious note of each of your activities. Ask yourself if you’re enjoying it, or if it brings you pleasure. Each and every task, analyze it. We’ll talk about it next week once you have time to reflect on it.”

It seemed… straight forward enough. Will nods. “Alright.”

“Do you enjoy private investigating?” he asks, tilting his head as if to stretch the muscle in his neck. Will watches the strong tendons in his neck strain, his sharp jaw line catching in the light. 

Will shrugs, looking away from him again. “It pays the bills. What I wanted is off the table, so to speak. I have to make do.”

“You may not be able to work as an agent, but you could teach. You’re more than qualified to work at the academy. You’re very good at what you do, and your talents would be appreciated, I’m sure.”

Will snorts, “My talents? I’ve given you one profile that doesn’t hold water with anyone, including the FBI.”

“I meant your gift, Will,” the doctor replies easily, a small grin dimpling his cheeks.

“My psych eval says otherwise,” he says with a self-depreciating grin.

Dr. Lecter shifts his weight in the chair, tapping his long finger against the armrest. "During your psychological evaluation, you must have been able to empathize with the answers they'd be preferential to hearing. I'm curious why you didn't... for lack of a better word, manipulate the situation to your advantage."

Will feels the icy shock roll through him at the presumption, guessed completely accurately. "I did," Will admits softly, glancing away briefly. "I said everything they'd want to hear, to the point of concern, apparently. They deemed me as just that; manipulative."

The slow smile from Dr. Lecter makes him squirm in his seat. “Extraordinary. Do you apply that… tactic to other aspects of your life?”

“Are you talking about Molly?” Will asks, and he genuinely doesn’t understand the question. The doctor nods, and Will shrugs. “I know exactly what she wants from me. I didn’t initially, but I see her more clearly now. She wants me to be normal. She wants me to be involved with her son’s life, even though he doesn’t want me to be. She wants me to be someone else, and it’s… ah, shit. We should wait till she’s here to defend herself, right?”

“If you feel that way, then why get married?” The question isn’t posed offensively, merely curious.

Will huffs out a laugh, shifting in his seat. “Jesus, doc. One might think you want us to break up.”

“I never implied anything of the sort. It’s a simple question that should be simple to answer.”

Will gnaws his bottom lip while his leg bounces. “It’s what people our age do, isn’t it? Start a family. Buy a house. White picket fence and granite counters.”

Dr. Lecter looks… disappointed by that. “And you want to conform to social construct? That’s why you want to marry Molly?”

“And I love her, obviously,” Will replies hastily, realizing what he didn’t say. Dr. Lecter lofts an eyebrow at him, pursing his lips to keep from smiling. His mask and body language are completely unreadable, and Will feels his own defensiveness prickling.

“Obviously,” he agrees after a moment. 

“Look,” Will sighs, leaning forward to brace his elbows on his knees. “People like us need to appreciate when an opportunity arises. We deliberately build walls to keep people out. When someone manages to find their way in, you’ve got to appreciate the dedication it took for them to get there. Molly did that. She didn’t let me put her off, and I… I don’t want to say I owe her, that’s not the right word…”

Dr. Lecter’s eyes narrow on him for a minute, and he feels the full sweep of his eyes over his body from head to toe. It’s scrutinizing to be pinned by that gaze. Dissecting, almost. “I’m curious as to why you include me in this metaphor.”

Will shrugs, rubbing idly at his stubble. “I can’t get a read on you. Not at all, by the way. You keep your emotions and your micro expressions so tight I can’t get even the scent of what you’re thinking. Normal people don’t do that. I’ve never met another person that does, either.”

“You’re suggesting I wear a mask,” Dr. Lecter notes with a cock of his head. His grin is amused when he replies. “Do you think I’m a sociopath?”

“No,” Will laughs. “Sorry, no. I think it’s more like you have walls, too. The only difference between you and I is that no one’s ever breached yours. Has anyone ever tried?”

Dr. Lecter watches him intensely for a few moments, his amber eyes boring holes into his face. There’s a gentle curve to the set of his mouth, but Will wouldn’t call it a smile. “I have fences, too.”

The bright laugh that’s punched out of Will surprises him. “Well, Dr. Lecter, one day someone will worm their way in. Then you’ll understand what I’m talking about.”

“I look forward to it,” he chuckles. His eyes are warm on Will’s own, and Will is shocked to realize he’s been making eye-contact with him. It’s not uncomfortable, either. It’s… nice to be seen.

“I am very good friends with Jack Crawford in the FBI. When I was a criminal psychologist I consulted on a few cases. If I could arrange an interview, would you be interested in teaching at Quantico? From what I gather, a colleague of mine has been filling the position temporarily for now, I’m sure they’re looking for someone to fill it more permanently.”

The quickened thrum of his heart makes him feel dizzy before he beats his enthusiasm down. It very likely wouldn’t happen, anyway. “He’d see why I failed.”

“Yes, why you wouldn’t make a good agent. You’d make a good professor, though. One that would become an asset, I’m sure.”

“I’ll go to an interview, if you can arrange that,” Will replies softly. “Thank you. Thanks for even… trying.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” he smiles. “Should I call the number that I have on file for you and Molly when I get an appointment time?”

Will shakes his head so quickly he gets dizzy. “No, uh…” Will stands up to head over to his desk, using a pen there to write his cell phone number on a post-it. “Call this number, please. Molly will be furious that I’m looking into this as a career choice. No need to piss her off unless I get the job, right?”

“Will, secrets and lies aren’t-”

Will groans, holding his hand up in an effort to stop his lecture. “I know, Dr. Lecter. We’ve been fighting for months, now. I will tell her if I get the job, but not before. I don’t really feel like sleeping on the couch.”

“Alright,” he concedes, but Will can tell he doesn’t like it. He glances at the clock and notes the time. “That’s all the time we have, I’m afraid. Should I keep this appointment open for you, Will?”

Will thinks on that, debating how he feels right now. He doesn’t feel better, necessarily, but it’s been nice talking to someone that seems to understand him. Someone who isn’t digging around in his head or taking notes for his future book. “I want to say yes, but under one condition.”

Dr. Lecter bites back a smile. “And what’s that?”

“If you ever publish something about me or my condition, do it posthumously.”

“Yours or mine?”

“Whichever comes first,” Will replies with a chuckle, leaning on the corner of his desk.

Dr. Lecter stands, walking towards the desk carefully to lean against the other corner. “I have no interest in writing about you, Will. I wouldn’t breach your trust in that way, nor would I want to.”

Will turns towards him, looking up at him with a smile. “You’d be the first one, then. There have been a few, by the way.”

“Unfortunate decision on their part,” he notes with a small grin. 

“I’ll, uh, see you on Monday with Molly, then,” Will replies eventually, leaning off the desk to take a few tentative steps towards Dr. Lecter. He holds his hand out, and his therapist looks amused by the gesture when he takes his hand in his. It’s not a handshake, really. Just… a soft press of palms and long fingers encasing the back of his hand. His thumb minutely caresses the back of his hand, and Will contains the shiver as he retracts his hand. “Thank you for offering to get me an interview. I uh, I appreciate it.”

“You’d be an asset. Of that I have no doubt.”

Will smiles, backing towards the door. “See you soon, Dr. Lecter.”

“Goodnight, Will,” he replies, following Will to the threshold of the door. Will can feel his eyes on him as he leaves the waiting area, and he thinks he can feel eyes on him even when he’s on the street. How easily he was able to connect with him was a surprise, and not an unwelcomed one. His palm still feels warm where Dr. Lecter’s hand was, and he presses it to his thigh, shaking off the heaviness that’s settled over him.

He heads home, cringing as he steps into the living room. Wally is playing the Xbox there, yelling into a headset while shooting zombies. It’s loud, and Will grits his teeth as he heads up the stairs. Molly is sprawled on their bed, nose in her book. “Hey sweets,” she greets him, glancing up from her book for only a moment. “How’d it go?”

There’s an overly-loud laugh from downstairs, and Wally yells, “Teabag him! Asshole!”

Will shuts the door, heading towards their bathroom. “It was good, I think. He’s… not like other therapists I’ve gone to.”

“He’s not,” she replies, blushing and biting her lip as she intentionally buries her face back into her book. Of course, she’d be talking about his looks. As if that really matters when it comes to a person’s therapy.

“Did you ever sleep with him?” he asks at the threshold of their bathroom. Her bubbling appreciation of him makes him ask the question more than actual concern.

Molly drops her book, her eyebrows knit in confusion. “What the hell? No! He’s our therapist, Will.”

“I meant after you and Tom,” he explains gently. “He’s attractive. You… appreciate him.”

“No,” she repeats again, and her eyes are on him in that way that makes his skin crawl again. Sliding greasily over him with so much judgement and seething disapproval that he wants to hide from it. He’s trying to figure out what that expression means, trying to place it in the conversation they just had, but he can’t. “I can find someone attractive and not sleep with them, Will.”

Will nods, creeping backwards into the bathroom. “I’m going to shower, then.”

She makes a noise in her throat to let him know she heard him, and then she’s flicking a page in her book, ignoring him again.

By the time he gets out of the shower, the lights are off, and she’s faced away from him. He settles into the sheets and turns his body away, too.

The weekend rolls around, and Will takes Wally to the stream to go fishing early on Saturday morning. He hates it, and Will knows he does. He’s trying to connect with the little shit, and it’s not working out, so far. Wally is in the grass to the side of the stream, his fingers quickly stabbing at the little game system he’s got in his hands. Their dogs are chasing each other around him, tearing out grass and rolling around.

He’s not going to catch a fish. There’s too much noise for that with Wally’s occasional loud declarations of dismay over his game and his dogs barking, but it’s okay. He thinks consciously about what he’s doing, noting that he does in fact enjoy this. The knowledge that he won’t catch a thing doesn’t even affect the joy he’s feeling. He enjoys fishing. Something to report back to Dr. Lecter.

He glances over the sparkling water, looking towards his future step-son. The kid was swearing, one finger buried deep in his nose. The revulsion he feels in that moment makes it clear how he feels about him, and he feels guilty about it, but only for a minute. He’s a teenager. He’s going to be repulsive, sometimes. “Hey, are we leaving this shithole sometimes soon?”

“Language,” Will scolds him with a scowl. He sighs, breathing in the clean air deeply. He wouldn’t be bringing Wally back here. Not ever again.

Tom picks Wally up at three on Saturday, as he gets Wally for weekends. Molly opens the door for him, and he greets her just like he would’ve in their marriage. “Hey, babe,” he drawls.

Will ignores her little beam of a smile in response, rolling his eyes as he ties off another fishing lure.

He and Molly go to dinner together, and the conversation is good. She’s laughing and smiling, and he wonders how much of it is because she’s on her fourth glass of wine, and how much of it is because she saw Tom today.

He’s not surprised when she takes him into the bedroom, tearing his clothes off at a break-neck pace. He’s between her thighs, thrusting into her in the dark of their room, and she spreads them a little more, urging him deeper.

He thrusts a little harder, and she sighs, pressing her feet to his ass to press him deeper. She wants more of him, and there isn’t any more of him to give. When he notes that she realizes this, her face turns towards the clock, and he knows she’s wondering how much longer he’s going to take.

It infuriates him, so he rubs at her clit with his thumb, and that brings her back into the moment enough that the little sigh she makes is genuine, at least. Her eyes are closed, and her breathing hitches as she arches her back. Her hand reaches out absently towards his chest. A tiny, infinitesimal moue of distaste twists her mouth as she smooths her hands across his chest, and not Tom’s bulging pecs.

She’s thinking of Tom while he’s fucking her, so he lets his thoughts wander to long legs. A narrow waist. Sharp cheekbones. Long, long, fingers.

The flare of arousal is a surprise, as well as the realization that he’s thinking of his therapist while fucking his fiancée. It doesn’t bother him too much. She’s thinking of someone else, too.

He closes his eyes and lets the fantasy take him. The soft pout of his upper lip. The curve of his jaw. His hips snap in their desire, and he moans when he thinks of amber eyes.

A small sigh made in discontent brings him back to what he’s doing. Molly is glancing at her book, and Will laughs. It’s a broken, miserable noise, and he pulls out of her, panting as he climbs from the bed to dispose of the condom. “Where are you going?”

“I can’t… I can’t fucking do this,” he spits out, rolling the condom off of himself and tossing it in the bathroom trash. He pulls on his boxers and runs his fingers through his hair. 

“Are you kidding me right now?” she asks, her tone like ice. “What did I do?”

“Nothing,” Will snaps. “I’m sleeping on the couch.”

“Will,” she sighs as he closes the bedroom door. His dogs don’t even look surprised to see him, anymore. He sleeps down here that frequently.

He grabs a throw pillow and a blanket, snaking his hand down his boxers and sighing. He’s still hard. He’s still thinking about how the hand he has wrapped around his dick is the same one that was wrapped around Dr. Lecter’s hand. He thinks of those long fingers. He imagines them around him, maybe around the both of them. The thought tears a moan from the back of his throat as his hand works himself quickly. He thinks of his spicy scent. His voice when he uses Will’s name. He imagines how it would sound pulled from those lips in pleasure. He thinks of those long, long, fucking legs. He imagines what it might be like to have them wrapped around his waist as he thrusts inside of such a muscular body, and the thought takes him over the edge. He moans through it, working his fist over his over-sensitive flesh.

Guilt worms it’s way in once he’s done. Emotional cheating isn’t the thing he’s thinking about. Dr. Lecter has been kind to him and thinking of him like this… it feels cheap, for some reason. He wouldn’t do it again.

He wakes up Sunday morning to Molly sitting on the coffee table in his tee shirt and her underwear, her hair up on her head in a messy bun as she sips her coffee. “Are you ready to talk about what happened last night?”

He groans, rolling onto his side. “M’not awake, Mol.”

She shakes her head, walking away towards the kitchen. Their morning is awkward, to say the least. She still joins him when he takes the dogs for a walk. They go grocery shopping together. 

She’s making dinner when Wally gets dropped off Sunday night, and their family dinner together feels almost normal. Wally is talking about a new shooting game that his dad bought him, and Molly is feigning interest. Will can’t even be bothered. The kid has nothing in common with him, and Wally barely even acknowledges he’s at the table. 

He takes a step back to take note of whether he’s enjoying this, and it’s almost painful to understand that he is not.

He feels like a placeholder in their life. There, but not relevant. The thought haunts him for the rest of the night.


	3. Chapter 3

He heads to work earlier on Monday because he’d need to leave by four to make their appointment. He’s almost dreading it because he’s jerked off to his therapist, and he’s wondering if the regal man will be able to smell it on him, somehow.

It’s a ridiculous thought, but it haunts him all day while he traces the whereabouts of an embezzler that ran away with a business partner’s money. Is he enjoying this, he wonders? He sifts through bank statements with a martyred sigh. 

No. No, he isn’t enjoying this.

Freddie shows up just after lunch with some photos of a crime scene, and she’s animated when she puts them on his desk. “I think it’s our guy,” she grins.

He flips through the photos, taking note of the messiness of the scene. The kidney was missing, but they were sloppy. He steps into the role of the killer, and the persona feels tight, constricting.

It’s not the Ripper. 

Will hands the folder back to her, shaking his head. “Not him. The cuts are hesitant. There are sutures that demonstrate almost no surgical ability. The organ was cut out much earlier, but that’s not what killed him. He woke up from sedation and reopened his wound in confusion. It’s a botched kidney harvest, Freddie.”

“You got all that from a couple of crime scene photos?” she wonders with an arched eyebrow. “Shit, Graham, you’re in the wrong field. The FBI thinks this is the Ripper.”

She leaves after a cup of coffee, and he sits back in his chair. He enjoys climbing into the minds of killers, even when they aren’t the Ripper. The thought unsettles him, and he sips scalding coffee to distract himself from the implication of such a thing.

He arrives to Lecter’s office early, again. He hates that it makes him look eager, as he’s not sure if he is or not. Dr. Lecter opens his door, dressed in a tight-fitting black sweater and gray slacks. His dark hair is casually swept away from the smooth expanse of his forehead, his face shaved clean. Will notices him in the span of only a few seconds, but he takes note of each detail almost avidly. He blushes as Hannibal smiles. “Good afternoon, Will. Come in,” he says with a sweep of his hand.

Will sweeps past him, taking in a little nose-full of his scent as he breezes by. The scent of him lulls Will a little bit. Settles him in a way that should be alarming, but it’s not. “I called Jack,” Dr. Lecter admits softly, moving to stand a little too much in Will’s space. “He asked if you’d be willing to meet with him Wednesday afternoon at two.”

Will’s mouth falls open as he looks up at the sharp lines of his face. “Really? You actually got me an interview?”

“Yes,” he replies. “Jack asked if I would join, as I have not seen him for the better part of a year. I could pick you up if that’s agreeable.”

Will nods, “Sure. I’ll be at my office on Clarence Street. You can meet me there if you want. Or I could come here, it doesn’t matter.”

“I’ll go to your office, it’s no problem,” Dr. Lecter replies, stepping just an inch closer. He’s close enough now that Will can note the varying colors in his eyes. Moss green and amber warring for dominance. 

Beautiful.

“Thank you,” Will breathes. “Even if I don’t get the job, you’ve done more for me than anyone has in… maybe my whole life. It’s appreciated.”

“It’s only an interview, Will,” he reminds him with a quirk of his mouth. 

"He's going to find out that I already applied, and that I'm a manipulative bastard."

"Yes," he agrees with a quirk of his lips, "but he holds me in quite high regard, and if he wants to be invited to my dinner parties in the foreseeable future, he will do himself the favor of giving you this job."

Will grimaces at that, stepping away from him a bit. "I don't want handouts, Dr. Lecter.”

"Nor should you, but I feel you've been overlooked. You'd be an asset to them, and they'd come to see it no matter how your foot got through the door."

"That's kind of the same mindset as sleeping your way to the top, just so you know."

Dr. Lecter laughs, and it’s a genuine one. The soft, musical quality of it gives Will goosebumps. “Is it? Well, no one will be sleeping with anyone, I assure you.”

Too bad, Will thinks, and blushes immediately with the thought. His scent is too strong this close, and his skin is too soft looking. Will steps back, wandering over to his designated seat as Molly crashes through the door. “Sorry,” she pants as she settles her purse and book bag on the sofa. “Traffic is really bad at this time of day. I asked Tom to pick up Wally from now on, at least on Monday’s.”

“It’s perfectly fine, Molly,” Dr. Lecter assures her as he settles out into the leather chair opposite Will. Molly sits on the green chaise lounge, adjusting the straps of her purse. He gives them each a minute to get comfortable before diving in. “How was this week for you both?”

Molly’s eyes glance hesitantly at Will, and he sighs as she responds. “We were intimate Saturday night. Will left in the middle of it, saying that he couldn’t fucking do it.”

Dr. Lecter trails his tongue along his bottom lip as he turns to Will, “May I ask what happened?”

“No,” he responds tartly, and Molly huffs.

“I want to know,” she blurts out desperately. “Clearly something was bothering you. I have the right to know what it is. For Christ’s sake, Will, what’s wrong?”

“You weren’t into it. You weren’t into me,” he admits softly, and she twists in her seat to glare at him.

“You’re kidding, right? We were in the middle of it! I didn’t say a thing!”

“You don’t have to say anything with your mouth, Molly. You say it with everything else.”

“Explaining it to her might be prudent, Will,” Dr. Lecter tells him. “She can’t understand your gift if you do not share your feelings with her.”

Will stands up, pacing the line of bookcases while tugging a hand through his hair. “No good will come of this,” he warns them.

“Are you too broken for intimacy?” Molly asks, and the thoughtlessness of the question sends him over the edge.

“Am I? No, Molly. I feel everything you feel when we are like that. Everything. If you put a little thought into it, you wouldn’t need me to spell it out for you.”

She crosses her arms over her chest defensively. “Are you saying it’s my fault?”

“Will, tell her. Explain it to her, please,” Dr. Lecter urges again, and Will snaps.

“You think of Tom,” Will blurts out. “He’s what? Six foot four? Probably hung better than I am, right? You’re always tugging me deeper, urging me to press in more. There’s no more of me to give! You look at your book when you realize I’m not fucking you the way you want me to. Sometimes you close your eyes and touch me, and your mouth twists when you realize you’re not touching the chest of your body-builder ex-husband. I’m fucking sick of it,” he admits with a violent wave of his hand.

The silence is deafening after that, and Will groans as he walks along the bookcases. “I do not think of Tom,” she says while averting her eyes towards the door. Lying. Her tell. “So you putting all your issues on me isn’t appreciated, especially considering you… you drifted that night, too. You were with me, and then you were pounding into me with your eyes closed. Who were you thinking of, Will?”

The silence is deafening, especially when he subconsciously flicks his eyes towards Dr. Lecter, and he knows Dr. Lecter catches it. “Uh, I wasn’t… I didn’t think of anyone else.”

“So you went downstairs to jack-off, and you thought of the paint on the walls?” She asks wryly. “I went to the top of the stairs to talk to you, and you were moaning with your hand down your pants.”

Will blushes hotly, averting his eyes from both people in the room when Dr. Lecter takes pity on him. “It’s very likely easier for Will to find release on his own, compared to having a partner. Being in a long-term relationship with someone who has an empathy disorder can be a learning curve, but I think in this case you’re finding insult where there is none. I asked you to consider not engaging in intimacy until you wanted him, Molly,” Dr. Lecter interjects. 

“I do want him,” she says stubbornly, and Will laughs.

“You want to have sex,” Will corrects her. “I just happen to be there.”

She looks like she’s about to argue when Dr. Lecter speaks again. “Do you find him physically attractive?”

“He’s beautiful,” she replies immediately, and Will finds that she’s being honest about that. 

“Recognizing someone is beautiful and feeling sexual attraction to them is not the same thing,” Dr. Lecter points out. Will stalls at that, turning his head to look at his therapist. Did he just say Will was beautiful?

“I am attracted to him,” she says adamantly, but her face does the twisting thing that it does when she’s thinking of something. That little grimace of distaste that mars her mouth when she looks at him sometimes.

“What did you just think about?” Will asks her, tipping his head as he settles back into his chair. “That look you just had, what were you thinking about?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replies curtly, and Dr. Lecter turns to her, crossing his legs.

“Honesty, Molly,” he reminds her. “You won’t be able to work through issues if he doesn’t know about them.”

She hesitates, wringing her hands in her lap. “Has he told you that he’s… bisexual?”

Dr. Lecter shifts in his seat while Will glares at her. “He has, yes.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Will asks, his tone harsher than he means for it to be.

She glares at him, sucking her teeth as she considers her words. “You either are, or you’re not, Will.”

It feels like the chair was dropped out from under him, her words are so shocking. Surely, she didn’t really believe that? “You… your brother is gay,” he replies numbly.

“Yeah,” she agrees with a sarcastic laugh. “He’s gay. He knows what he wants, Will. I just… Sometimes I think maybe you say you’re bi as a cover. You can’t tell me you like both equally. There’s… it’s not possible.”

Will’s mouth is hanging open as he stares at her. How could he have been with her all this time and not know she was disgusted by his sexuality? Was he really that unattuned to her? To their relationship? “I don’t…” Will stammers, shaking his head. “I don’t notice someone’s gender, really. I notice them as a person. I date people, regardless of their body parts. I can and do like both equally.”

She shakes her head, grinning sarcastically. “I don’t believe that. My roommate used to say she was bi, bi, all the time. Turns out she’s a… well, a lesbian, now.”

“One instance of someone using it as a cover means that everyone does?” Will asks her in disbelief. He’s so fucking hurt by it that he can’t and will not look at her.

Will feels the slightest fissure of tension from his therapist, and he turns to him to find genuine disgust on his face. “You do not believe Will is bisexual? You think he’s saying that to cover his predilection for men? What has he done to prompt these concerns?”

“I don’t know!” Molly replies defensively. “I know he’s had a few boyfriends back in the day. I’ve asked a few times what he’s done with them, and he always responds so fucking flippantly. I’ve never gotten a straight answer from him about it.”

“I’ve done what people in relationships do,” Will tells her, and she shakes her head.

“That!” She bellows tartly, “That is not an answer at all.”

“If his sexuality is an impasse, then I’m afraid I cannot benefit either of you,” Dr. Lecter admits to her. 

“You’re supposed to be helping us! You’re what? Suggesting we need to break up?”

Dr. Lecter hesitates, turning to Will with an apologetic expression. “You’ve expressed dissatisfaction with two of his core personality traits, his empathy disorder and his sexuality. Both aspects of Will that are not something that require fixing. If who he is as a person is not what you want, then yes. I suggest separation. I can help him better manage his empathy disorder in time, but Will cannot change his sexuality any more than he can change the color of his skin. It’s who he is, Molly, and there’s nothing wrong with him for it.”

Will stares at him for a few minutes, just feeling fucking thankful for him. Dr. Lecter’s eyes are soft when they turn to regard him, and Will let’s a small smile of appreciation show on his face. “I just want to know what he’s done with guys,” Molly says miserably, breaking the small connection they’ve made.

“What difference does it make?” Will asks her. This was the thing. The thing that he knew would end them if he knew about it. He’s debating what to do with her revelation, all while feeling the sting of her disgust with him. 

“It makes a difference, and I have the right to know!”

Will glares at her, and he decides that if she wants to know, then he’d tell her. “I’ve done everything, Molly,” he replies evenly. “I’ve fucked men, and they’ve fucked me. I’ve sucked cock, and they’ve sucked mine. I’ve rimmed them, and they’ve had their tongues inside of me, too. Does that help you, knowing all of that?”

She looks like she’s about to be sick, so when she stands and leaves the office abruptly, slamming the door on her way out, Will isn’t really surprised. He and Dr. Lecter sit in awkward silence for a few minutes, and Will shifts in his seat to take the other man in. “Perhaps you could have told her with a bit more finesse.”

Will chuckles, “I may have… exaggerated some of my experiences a bit. I haven’t done everything I told her I did. I wanted a reaction, and it was worth it.”

Dr. Lecter watches him for a few moments, his eyes sliding over him almost appreciatively. “What is it that you haven’t done, Will?”

It’s such an inappropriate question that Will almost considers not answering. “I’ve never rimmed anyone, nor has anyone done that to me. I’ve never been penetrated, either.”

“Why lie about that?” he asks with a curious tilt of his head. That little blade of a grin is back on his face. The one that Will wouldn’t really call a smile.

“To upset her, mostly,” he replies easily. “Also, because I’m not opposed to any of it. I would have wanted to, if my relationships hadn’t fizzled out before it could get to that level of intimacy. I have a hard time letting people in, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Dr. Lecter swallows, and the click of his throat is loud in the cavernous room. His leg is folded elegantly over the other, and his pant leg is raised enough that Will can see his ankle encased in a black sock. Even his ankles are beautiful. Delicate and thin. He trails his eyes up the long leg, taking apart his broad chest encased in the black, soft material of his sweater. He knows Dr. Lecter is aware of his regard. He’s not inclined enough to care at the moment.

“Are you still having nightmares?” he asks, crossing and uncrossing his legs. He wonders if his psychiatrist is affected by him as much as he is affected by Dr. Lecter. Is his leg crossing done to cover it? Will grins at the thought. It’s doubtful, though. His psychiatrist doesn’t have many tells.

“Yes,” Will nods. “Every night. Last night I chased the stag into a field. He was standing on a pile of dead bodies. I was going to kill him… I had my shotgun raised and he was in my sight. I just… couldn’t, though. In my dream, it felt like if I killed him, I’d be killing myself. I woke up on my front porch, sweating.”

“Coming to terms with who you are can be challenging,” he acknowledges. “Have you done the exercise I’ve asked you to do?”

“Yeah,” Will laughs. “Turns out, I don’t enjoy anything aside from my dogs, fishing, and climbing in the driver’s seat of a killer’s mind. Not great news, by the way.”

“Not all revelations in your becoming will be easy ones,” he replies, his dark eyes glinting with something Will would call mischief.

“My becoming?” Will muses with a quirk of his lips. “You make it sound like I’m about to hatch into a butterfly.”

“Not quite,” Dr. Lecter laughs, and his mask slips enough that he can feel genuine warmth from the other man. “It’s merely an allegory for who you’ll be once you become more secure in yourself. I see signs of it already.”

Will frowns, trying to figure out what he’s doing that’s different than a week ago. His eyes widen when he realizes he’s been making eye contact with Dr. Lecter this entire time. “I guess you’re right,” he says with a chuckle.

The silence settles over them again, but it’s comfortable. Will lets his eyes roam over the man across from him, his empathy open enough that he should be picking up on something from him. He’s not, though. His features are schooled expertly into a neutral, friendly, expression. His body language is just… not decipherable. Will has never met anyone quite like him. “Were you thinking of someone else when you went downstairs on Saturday?” he asks out of nowhere.

“That’s not a relevant question,” Will scolds him mildly, blushing to the tips of his ears. 

“I feel that it is,” Dr. Lecter replies. “You are offended when Molly thinks of Tom, so I’m wondering if you’re thinking of others, too.”

Will gnaws his bottom lip, sinking into the seat awkwardly. “I’ve never done it before, but I was thinking of someone else,” he admits softly. “She was actively thinking of Tom, and I decided I either couldn’t do it, or I would do the same thing she does. Thinking of… someone else helped me, but she noticed that. She never notices anything I do but leave it to her to notice the moment my mind wanders to… someone else.”

“Is it the fact that she thinks of Tom that’s upsetting, or just that she’s thinking of anyone else?”

Will shrugs at that. “I guess I don’t know for certain that it’s Tom she’s imagining,” he admits with a scowl. “I know she finds me… slight, compared to whoever she’s imagining. Hell, she could be thinking of you, for all I know. She gives off a tiny bit of… longing around you. That would be funny, actually,” Will laughs. “Both of us imagining-”

Will bites his own tongue so hard he’s surprised he doesn’t taste blood. Dr. Lecter grins like a cat while Will squirms in his seat, his face hot enough that he could cook an egg on his cheeks. “That would be funny, I suppose.”

Will stands abruptly, fidgeting with his jacket as he notes the time. “I should… go. I have no idea what I’m heading home to.”

“I’ll head to your office on Wednesday for 1230,” Dr. Lecter reminds him. “Bring your profile for the Ripper, please.”

Will nods, shifting his feet awkwardly. “Thank you for that. Really, just… thanks.”

Dr. Lecter stands, and he’s suddenly right in Will’s space. The scent of him nearly knocks Will over, he smells so good. Without thinking, Will reaches his hand out and takes Dr. Lecter’s in a semblance of a handshake again. This time, he angles his face up to catalogue the reaction, and he’s unsure if he’s glad he did or not. Their palms connect, the little zings of current passing between them. Neither one of them move to make it an actual handshake, just a press of palms where long fingers caress the back of his hand. Dr. Lecter’s eyes rake from his own, towards his mouth, and then back up again. It’s wildly intimate for a pseudo-handshake, and Will holds his breath when he feels the doctor’s thumb trace the soft skin of his wrist. “See you Wednesday,” he says softly, his voice weaker than he wants it to be.

“Wednesday,” he agrees, removing his hand from Will’s own. He walks Will to the door, and Will feels his eyes on him as he leaves the office.

When he gets home, it’s to an empty house. There’s a note on the counter telling him that Molly and Wally will be staying at her Mom’s house while they work through this. He feels a flare of irritation at that, as that means her mother now knows of their fight, and what it was about. Molly tells everyone everything about their relationship with no regard as to how it affects people’s perspective of him, or their relationship, for that matter. If her mother knows, then that means her sister will, too. He isn’t looking forward to her self-righteous view on sodomy, that’s for sure.

He takes his dogs for a walk, then returns home to make something for dinner. Having the house so quiet is strange, but not unwelcomed. He settles into the couch with a book, grinning at the peace he has in his living room with no teenager teabagging people in a video game. He asks himself if he’s enjoying this. This solitude and quiet.

He smiles as he flips his book open. He loves it.

Molly calls him Tuesday afternoon, and she sounds very withdrawn. “We’ll be staying here for a few more days, I think.”

He rolls his eyes as he pours himself another coffee at his office. “You really need this much time away from me?”

“It’s not what you’ve done, Will, it’s how you said it to me. You wanted to hurt me with it. Well, you did. Good job.”

“I wanted you to know the truth, even though it shouldn’t matter. I don’t ask what you’ve done with your previous partners,” he reminds her.

“No,” she agrees with a sarcastic laugh. “You just accuse me of imagining Tom while we’re fucking. I’ve got to go, Will.” The line disconnects and Will sighs. At least he’d get another night of peace and quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, I've met quite a few people that think like Molly does; that bisexuality is a lie/cover/whatever. It's sickening, and it's NOT how I feel in the least. I mean zero offense to anyone with her perspective. She's about to clear out, soon. haha <3


	4. Chapter 4

Will wakes up early on Wednesday, as he wants to get dressed nicely for his interview. He shaves his face clean. He styles his curls as best as he can, parting them so there’s a gentle curl over his forehead. He wears his nice forest green button down and pairs it with his nicest slim-fit black slacks. He foregoes a tie in favor of wearing his black blazer. He looks… good when he regards his appearance in the mirror. He hopes he looks good enough to disregard his psych eval a few years earlier.

He puts his glasses on the counter, as he doesn’t really need them. They’re a barrier between himself and others, and he wants to appear confident in his interview. 

There’s a tiny little piece of himself that wants Dr. Lecter to see him like this, too. He’s always so disheveled for their appointments, and the thought embarrasses him. He skips breakfast because he’s nervous, and by the time lunch rolls around, he’s at his office debating if he has time to find food when Dr. Lecter breezes in. 

He looks incredible in a gray sweater and gray slacks, a purple tie at his throat. His black peacoat is open, and he’s got a purple scarf that matches his tie exactly. Will’s throat goes dry as he looks up at him, his hand extended before he has time to think about it. “Hey,” he says softly as his hand is engulfed in the warmth of Dr. Lecter’s palm. Not a handshake again, just… holding.

“Will,” he greets softly. His mouth is quirked gently in a little smile as he looks down at Will, while his eyes rake in his appearance. His office is brighter than Dr. Lecter’s office, and he notes the clarity of his therapist’s eyes, the subtle tones of moss and gold in them. His skin is golden and healthy. His dark hair has notes of honey and light browns that catch the light and match the golden tones in his eyes. 

He’s absolutely gorgeous, and Will withdraws his hand as a little bloom of something spreads through his gut.

Dr. Lecter raises his other hand that’s holding a canvas tote. “I made lunch if you’re interested. We have time.”

“You made it?” Will asks dumbly while Dr. Lecter unpacks a few glass containers on his messy desk. “You didn’t need to trouble yourself, Dr. Lecter,” he blushes.

“I adore cooking,” he replies with a little smile. “It’s no trouble, I assure you. I imagined you’d be nervous, and a hot meal will settle you before your interview.”

“What is it?” Will asks as he pops the lid of one of the containers, the scent of delicious food filling the room. 

“Protein scramble,” he smiles. “Sausage, eggs, peppers, shallots, mushrooms,” he shrugs. “A little heavy for breakfast, but perfect for a late lunch.”

They settle into the two chairs he has in his office, and Will moans when he takes his first bite. “Wow, this is awesome. The sausage, Dr. Lecter,” he licks his lips. “Delicious.”

“Thank you,” Dr. Lecter smiles, taking a bite from his own bowl. “I make them myself.”

Will shakes his head, grinning. “I’d pay you for a few links,” he laughs.

“No need for that,” he replies with a smile, highlighting his sharp cheekbones. “I’ll bring you a few the next time I make them. I think, also, it might be best if you called me Hannibal for today. I am not introducing you as a patient. I told Jack you’re a dear friend who came to me for help with your profile.”

“Hannibal,” Will breathes immediately and blushes. The sheer look of satisfaction from Hannibal makes Will blush harder. “I might slip.”

“I am not opposed to you using my given name, for the record,” he smiles. “Even after today.”

The idea of it is weirdly perverse and intriguing all at the same time. “Do any of your other patients have that privilege?”

“No,” Dr. Lecter… Hannibal, grins. “For you, though, I’d prefer it.”

They eat in companionable silence for a few minutes while Will tries to come up with something to say so he can use his name. He wants to see the little approving quirk of his mouth, the warmth of his eyes. The harder he thinks about it, the less he’s able to think of anything.

“May I see your profile?” Hannibal asks eventually once he’s finished eating. 

Will nods, digging out the folder on his desk to hand it over. “You can tell me if there are any glaring mistakes, Hannibal,” he replies softly.

Hannibal’s nostrils flare as his eyes settle heavily on Will’s own. “Of course,” he replies, forcing a deliberate blandness into his voice.

Will sits quietly while Hannibal reads the profile, taking a moment to note if he enjoys spending time with Hannibal.

He does. God, he does. Being in his company is probably the most enjoyment Will has had in years. The thought sends a little flare of guilt through his gut as he thinks of Molly, but it’s not enough for Will to take his eyes off Hannibal.

He’s intensely invested in the profile, smiling sometimes, and biting his lip occasionally. He looks up, and his eyes are intense. “This might be the most well put-together profile I’ve had the privilege of reading. Your gift… Will, it’s extraordinary.”

Will’s mouth twists with frustration. “Therapists always think so.”

Hannibal looks contrite, averting his eyes down to the folder again. “Forgive me.”

“It’s fine,” Will soothes him. “You never make me feel like a science experiment, Hannibal. It’s alright to be… fascinated by it. I know it’s rare.” His stomach lurches a bit, and he rubs his abdomen, gritting his teeth. “I didn’t eat because I was so nervous,” Will explains awkwardly. “The food was good, but it’s sitting in my gut like lead.”

“This career path means very much to you. I wonder why you've never pursued it? You have the credentials. Just because you couldn't be an agent, doesn't mean you could not teach, or consult."

Will shrugs. "True, but I was... I don't know... hurt by it for a while, I guess. I took it personally. Like my gift was taking something from me that I deserved. I've always had a bit of resentment about who I am, and I guess them confirming my concerns made how I am... real. It was a legitimate rejection based on my mind alone. It stung."

"You felt abandoned," Hannibal assumes coolly.

Will shakes his head. "Abandonment requires expectation. I've learned to adjust my expectations, and it covers all my bases. This was the sting of knowing that my disorder was a hindrance. I'd never considered it as such before that."

Hannibal watches him for a moment, his head tilted as if considering something. “Who else in your life have you expected more than abandonment from? Perhaps you’ll tell me about your mother?”

Will snorts, leaning back in his seat as he glares openly at his psychiatrist. "That's some lazy psychiatry, Doctor Lecter. Low hanging fruit," he says bitterly. "How about you tell me of your mother?"

Hannibal shrugs, "Both of my parents passed when I was very young. I was seven when I lost my mother, and thirteen when my father died."

Will blinks in surprise, as he hadn’t really expected any kind of answer. "Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't... you didn't actually have to tell me that. I had no business asking about you."

"Nonsense," he says easily. "We aren't in a session. You have the right to ask whatever you'd like."

Will bites his lip, considering his next question. "What happened to you? Did you have other family?"

Hannibal's eyes glance away briefly, and Will senses a moment of grief before it passes. "I had family, but they lived very far away. I stayed in an orphanage for a year or so while they figured out the estate. My Uncle was a very hard man, but my Aunt was loving."

"My mother left my dad and I when I was very young," Will blurts out while a blush rushes up his cheeks. "She just... left. I don’t remember her, but I imagine it was because of me. Because of my... weirdness. My dad did the best he could with me, but he was depressed after she left. He drank a lot, lost a lot of jobs because of it. We moved around quite a bit for him to find work at different shipyards. My childhood... it was lonely. Always the new kid in school, always the strange one who other kids thought could read their minds. It was... unpleasant."

Hannibal is silent again, but his eyes are heavy as they regard him. "We had similar issues with loneliness," he says softly.

“It makes us stronger, I think,” Will replies with a shrug. “Or maybe it’s the reason we both build walls to keep people out. Either way, I don’t regret who I am now.”

“Nor should you,” Hannibal smiles. He glances up at the clock and arches an eyebrow. “Are you ready, Will? We should head there.”

“Right,” Will nods, standing abruptly to fidget with his blazer, then his hair. “Fuck, I’m nervous.”

Hannibal stands, walking over to Will to stand very close. Will holds his breath when Hannibal adjusts the collar of his button-down, then his blazer. “You’ve nothing to be nervous about. Talk to him and tell him what you’ve told me. The rest will come easily.”

Will stares up at him, his throat dry for reasons entirely different than his interview. He breathes in his scent for a few breaths, calming his frayed nerves. His eyes in daylight are something else. The color and clarity like a good whiskey. “Thank you,” he says eventually, and he’s not even sure his response makes sense. He can’t remember the last thing Hannibal has said.

“Your eyes... I thought they were blue,” Hannibal says absently, and Will swallows hard enough that his throat clicks. “They’re moss green, right now. Beautiful.”

“I was just thinking that yours are the same color as Bulleit Rye whiskey,” he blushes.

The breathy laugh ghosts across Will’s face, and he leans into it. “Is that a good thing?”

“They’re unusual,” Will admits, licking his bottom lip and watching Hannibal follow the movement with his eyes. “Beautiful in their uniqueness.”

They stare at one another for a minute before Will steps away with a clearing of his throat. Hannibal’s face is flushed, and he nods his head as if to clear it. “Don’t forget the profile,” Hannibal reminds him while packing up the few empty containers.

“Right,” Will replies absently, snatching the folder from his desk.

Hannibal walks him out of his office, waiting to his side while he locks up. He steers Will towards a shiny black Bentley with a palm to the small of his back, opening the passenger side door for him. Will glances up at him with amusement, as no one’s ever opened a car door for him before. Hannibal grins as he settles into the seat, closing the door once he’s settled.

The car smells intensely like Hannibal’s cologne and rich leather. It makes Will’s mouth water as Hannibal settles into the driver’s seat. He pulls out of the parking lot with soft, classical music playing through the speakers. “Where are you from?” Will asks out of nowhere. He’s been wondering about it, and he figures they’re… close enough now that it’s not strange to ask.

“All over,” Hannibal replies with a soft smile. “I was born in Lithuania, however.”

“So, you can speak… is it Lithuanian? The language?”

“Yes, and yes,” he grins, glancing at Will quickly with a raised eyebrow.

“I noticed you have a few books written in different languages. How many can you speak?” Will asks, and he’s blushing to his hairline while wondering why he’s playing twenty questions with Hannibal.

“Five fluently, eight conversationally,” he replies. “Lithuanian, Italian, French, German, and English. I can hold conversations in Mandarin, Swedish, and Danish.”

“Shit,” Will breathes. “That’s… seriously impressive.”

“Immersion is the best way to learn a new language,” Hannibal says absently. “Can you speak anything other than English?”

“I can get by with a little creole French from living in New Orleans,” he admits. 

“Very different dialect than European French,” Hannibal notes.

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “My partner in New Orleans was creole, and he’d teach me, sometimes. He was a really good man.”

Hannibal grips the steering wheel a little tighter, creaking the leather. “Was he your first real relationship with a man?”

Will frowns, turning to Hannibal with an arched eyebrow. “No, sorry. Not that kind of partner. I was a police officer there right out of high school.”

“Oh,” Hannibal nods. “I wasn’t aware of that.”

“I uh… only did it for two years. I got stabbed, and they let me go.”

“That doesn’t seem especially fair,” Hannibal muses. 

“I was at a bust, a guy was selling drugs to pay for his daughter’s chemotherapy. I could feel the anxiety rolling off him. He knew if he went to jail his family couldn’t pay their bills. I hesitated. He noticed the opportunity to get away, and he stabbed me in the shoulder and took it.”

Hannibal is silent for a few minutes, considering that. “Your gift makes you aware of everyone’s motives, and not everyone who is criminally inclined does so because they’re bad people. Your gift is so extraordinary, Will. And it is just that, a gift.”

“Well it made me a bad cop,” Will admits with a laugh.

“One might argue that it made you a good cop, just not one with a sense of self-preservation. Were you injured severely?”

Will shakes his head. “I had to have a few surgeries to repair my shoulder and rotator cuff, but I was fine. It bothers me some days when it’s damp outside.”

“Did they do an open repair, or an arthroscopic repair?” Hannibal asks, and Will turns to him in surprise. 

“Open,” he replies. “Too much muscle damage to do a smaller surgery. Have you had a rotator cuff surgery?”

“No,” Hannibal smiles, arching an eyebrow at Will briefly. “While I was doing my residency at Johns Hopkins, I assisted in a few rotator cuff repairs.”

“You were training to be a surgeon? Jesus, that’s… is there anything you’re not good at?”

Hannibal chuckles as he pulls into the parking lot in Quantico. “I am not good at winking,” he laughs.

Will laughs, turning to Hannibal in surprise. Hannibal attempts to wink at him, and both eyes close, prompting Will to laugh more. “Suave, Hannibal.”

Hannibal’s smile is wide as they climb from the car, walking to the entrance of the building close enough that their arms brush. “Stop fidgeting,” Hannibal tells him, even though he’s not even looking at him.

Will releases the death-grip he has on the folder, stepping into the building after Hannibal holds the door open for him. “Can’t help it. Nervous.”

They check in, getting temporary passes that Hannibal puts on his blazer for him. They step onto the elevator, and Will turns to Hannibal, his expression portraying something that prompts his therapist to soothe him. “Jack is a very good man,” he says. “You are a very good profiler. Be yourself, and he’ll see what an asset you are.”

They walk to an office, and Hannibal knocks on the door. There’s a gruff, “Come in,” and then Will is shaking Jack Crawford’s hand.

“Will Graham,” he greets, forcing himself to make eye-contact. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Jack replies. “Jack Crawford. Please, call me Jack.” Jack lets go of his hand and reaches for Hannibal’s. “Dr. Lecter, always good to see you.”

“It’s been far too long,” Hannibal agrees politely. “How is my dear Bella?”

“She’s good,” Jack replies with a smile. “She asks about you, sometimes. Your cooking is memorable, as is the company.”

“Very kind of you to say,” Hannibal chuckles. “We’ll have to get together soon.”

“Please,” Jack says, gesturing to the two chairs opposite his desk. “Have a seat.”

They settle in, and Jack turns to Will with a tilt of his head. “Dr. Lecter called me and told me about you. Says you’ve got a profile on the Ripper that I should see.”

Will nods, handing the folder over to him. “I took an interest in the case. I’m a private investigator, currently.”

“I saw that you applied to the academy a few years ago,” Jack admits with a raised eyebrow. “You couldn’t be an agent, but we do need someone to teach an intro to Criminal Psychology course in the academy. You have the credentials for that.”

“I’m not opposed to working as a professor,” Will admits, even though it’s not precisely true. 

“Do you mind if I read this right now?” Jack asks, holding the folder up. 

“No, go ahead,” Will urges him. 

The next few minutes are mostly silent while Jack reads his profile, his face portraying surprise a few times as he reads it over. “This is very different from the one that we have on him,” he says slowly.

Will nods, “I know. I still think I might be… close.”

Jack mulls that over, staring at Will intensely. “Profile me, please.”

Will blushes, averting his eyes. “That’s not… I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Please,” Jack insists. “I want to see how good you are at it. I know myself, so this is a good exercise. You won’t offend me, I assure you.”

Will glances at Hannibal, who nods in agreement. “Okay…” he says slowly. He trails his eyes over Jack slowly, taking in his micro expressions and his body language. His clothes and his hair. Every detail paints a vivid picture.

“You’re… a middle child. Never got quite the attention as your older sibling, nor the interest like your younger one. You were overlooked a lot, which is why you’ve sought a position of power. You like people under you, telling them what to do. You’re good at your job, and the people who work for you have a quiet sense of awe about you. You micromanage them, though. Pressing your influence on anyone that thinks too far outside the box. 

You’re married, but don’t have children. You wanted them, and always said you’d have them once you were at a point in your career where you had time for it, but it never happened. Your work is your life, and you prefer it that way. You’re a good man, but you give off the air of sternness to dissuade people from thinking you’re soft. You care about the people in your life but keep your coworkers at arms distance. I think maybe because you’ve lost someone, here. Someone you were attached to, someone you admired.”

“Fuck,” Jack breathes, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Okay. Well, that’s… Christ.”

“Sorry,” Will mumbles, fidgeting with his hands in his lap.

“That’s an incredible gift, Will,” he says softly. “It’s… unsettling, but incredible.” He turns to Hannibal, his eyebrows raised. “I should’ve known he was something special for you to bring him to me like this.”

“He’s a dear friend who’s wasting his talents in private investigation,” Hannibal agrees. “He deserves something more of his life. His empathy disorder may make him unstable for field work, but I don’t think his gifts are a hinderance for your agency. Utilizing him would just take some… creativity.”

“I’m nothing if not creative,” Jack laughs. “We have an open position for the academy, and I think you’d be a perfect fit, there. Come in tomorrow morning and we’ll get the paperwork started as well as a background check. That usually takes two to three weeks, plenty of time for you to wrap up anything else you’ve got going on.”

“Really?” Will says numbly. “You’re… I got it?”

“Welcome aboard, Will Graham,” Jack grins. “I’ll put a note in the hiring offer that amends for consulting on cases. Tell me if the offer is good enough or not, and I can talk to HR to adjust the offer if needed.”

“Thank you,” Will blurts out, blushing scarlet. “Really, that’s… thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he replies. “I hate to kick you both out, but I’ve got a meeting in ten minutes.”

“No problem at all Jack, thank you for your time,” Hannibal says politely. They exchange a firm handshake, and then he takes Will’s hand to do the same. 

“See you tomorrow, Will,” he says, then thinks for a minute. “Nine am should be fine, by the way.”

“I’ll be here,” Will says with a smile. He barely remembers the walk to the elevators, or the walk outside. He’s jittering with nerves and shock, his whole-body thrumming with anticipation.

Hannibal must see he’s shaking apart, because he turns to Will by his car, placing the palm of his hand against the hammering pulse-point in his neck, cupping his jaw while his fingers lace through the curls at the nape of his neck. The contact and proximity force Will to the present, and he tips his face up to take in Hannibal’s face, his mouth. His scent is calming, and Will breathes him in while tipping his face into his palm, grounding himself back to reality.

“You’re alright, Will,” he breathes, his amber eyes sliding from his eyes to his mouth.

Will reaches up to touch the back of his hand that’s against his neck, and Hannibal seems to realize what he’s doing. His face pinches, and he steps back, the palm that previously was against his neck clenching into a fist for a moment.

They climb into the car, and the scent of Hannibal lulls him a bit. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have ever done this. I’ve wanted it my whole life, and you made it happen today.” He turns to Hannibal, and notes that his left hand is on the steering wheel while his right is on the gear shift. He reaches out tentatively, gently, hesitantly, and places his hand over Hannibal’s, gliding his fingertips over his knuckles. “Thank you.”

Hannibal looks wildly torn for a few minutes before his palm turns over the gearshift, and he lets their palms press gently, lacing their fingertips softly. They’re not holding hands, really. Just… touching. Taking in the texture of each other’s skin.

The chaste gesture shouldn’t feel like he’s sticking his hand in an electrical outlet, but it does. 

They don’t speak all the way back to Will’s office, but their hands stay right where they are.

“See you tomorrow?” Will asks, turning to Hannibal with a soft smile.

Hannibal licks his lips, glancing down to where they’re still touching. “I think I should give you a referral,” he says softly. It sounds like the last thing he wants to do. 

It’s the last thing Will wants, too. “No,” Will breathes. “I don’t want that.”

Hannibal swallows, and his eyes turn to Will regretfully. “Will, I could… this has ventured further than I thought it would. You need a therapist who doesn’t… who isn’t…”

“Hannibal,” Will sighs his name out, elongating the vowels. Hannibal’s eyes close while Will draws out his name, and Hannibal takes his hand out from Will’s own. “I’ve never opened up to anyone like this. You know me, I think. Maybe better than you’re letting on. You see me. No one’s seen me. Don’t… don’t send me to someone else, please. If I’m making you uncomfortable, I’ll stop.”

“It’s not you,” Hannibal assures him, his eyes apologetic as they glance up at Will’s face. “You’ve done nothing, Will. I… I am being unprofessional. This is unprofessional.”

“We can’t be friends?” Will asks, and he knows they’re more than that.

Hannibal looks at him wryly. “If that were the only concern, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I can’t treat you and be your… friend.”

Will deflates at that, nodding his head sharply. “So, I won’t see you tomorrow, then. I don’t want a referral, though. Thanks for the offer,” he says defeatedly, extricating himself from the car as quickly as he can. He goes to his office door, fumbling with the keys when he feels Hannibal behind him, turning his shoulder with his hand. He backs Will against the door, his face millimeters from Will’s own. His arms are barricading Will in, and Will stutters on a breath, looking up into desperate, amber eyes. 

“If I stopped seeing you as a patient, maybe we could continue seeing one another as… friends. It’s still unethical, but it would… ease my mind to know that you aren’t my patient.”

“Molly still wants to see you,” he replies, and Hannibal flinches. 

“I’ll see you both as a couple,” he replies almost bitterly. “But your solo sessions with me are canceled from now on. We’ll have… conversations. Not therapy.”

Will licks his lips, and the action draws Hannibal’s eyes downward to watch it. “In your office?”

Hannibal shakes his head. “I’ll text you my home address. Come for dinner when you’re finished here tomorrow night.”

Hannibal steps back only a foot or so, and Will leans away from the door. “Friends, then,” he says softly, reaching his hand out again.

Hannibal takes it immediately, his thumb brushing against Will’s wrist. “Friends.”

They both knew it was bullshit. This is more than that, and they are pretending for the sake of a failing engagement. Will needs to end it with Molly as soon as he talks to her next. 

Hannibal leaves after that, and Will feels a sense of loss as his hand withdraws from Will’s own. He watches the car pull away until he can’t see it anymore.

Molly still isn’t back when he gets home later that night, and he sighs at the quiet of his house. He’d need to figure out where he would stay when he leaves her, and it’s not something that’s pleasant to think about. He takes his dogs out, and he looks down at them miserably as he realizes that she signed all the adoption papers for them. When he leaves, he'll likely only get to keep Buster and Winston because they were the only ones that were his before they got together. His stomach turns at the thought of losing the others, but they'd be in a good home. Molly would take care of them, he knows.

He reads a bit before bed, settling out on the sheets with a sigh. He’d get in touch with Molly tomorrow and tell her that it was time they had a talk.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE WE GO. 
> 
> Also, posting might slow down a bit after this. I've been on a little vacation of sorts, so I've been able to write and edit as much as I want. Work tomorrow is going to put a damper on that, but I sweaaaar to you it won't be weeks between posts. Trust me on that one.
> 
> READY FOR THIS? WOOOOT.

He wakes up early so he can get dressed up nicer again, as he’s going to be meeting people from HR and see Jack again. He chooses the royal blue button-down that Molly doesn’t seem to care for, and pairs it with his charcoal slacks. He shaves the stubble from his face again and styles his hair as best as his wild curls will allow.

He’s eating toast with strawberry jam when Molly comes in, her face portraying surprise at finding him here. He’s usually long gone by eight am.

“What’re you all dressed up for?” she asks as she walks into the kitchen hesitantly.

“Job interview for teaching at the academy at Quantico,” he replies. 

He notices her face pinch, and she walks over, her shoulders sagging. “Will, that’s the worst idea for your mental health. You know that.”

“I have always wanted it, and you know that, too,” he replies coolly.

“I don’t want to fight,” she admits with a sigh. “I… Will, I am sorry. I am so God damned sorry that I reacted the way I did. I am not… repulsed by you. I love you. I’m… I’m scared that you’ll leave me for a man. I feel like… I don’t know, like you’re not happy with me, sometimes. I can feel it, and I know Wally is… difficult. I know that. I know Tom makes it weird for you to connect with him, and I’ve talked to him about that. I don’t want you to think that I haven’t.”

Will sets his coffee mug down, grimacing as he realizes how right she is about so many different things. She deserved better than this. She deserved better than him lusting after someone else. “I need some time, Molly,” he admits softly. “I don’t… fuck I don’t have time, right now. I’ve got to be in Quantico for nine.”

“We’ll talk later, then,” she says softly. She leans forward and brushes her lips to his, and his heart shatters at how sweetly she kisses him. He pulls away, licking his lips of her vanilla Chapstick. 

“Later,” he agrees. “I have my appointment with Dr. Lecter tonight.”

“Right,” she realizes. “I forgot about that. I’ll be here. Wally will be here, too.”

As he’s driving to Quantico, he’s thinking about what he wants with Molly. He’s not sure, anymore. Their bad days tip the scale compared to any good days they have, and all of them were months ago. He knows all relationships go through hard times, but he feels like what Hannibal said to her is true. She dislikes two major facets of who he is, and it’s not even the tip of the iceberg of the dislikes she has of his ways. This new job could be a turning point for his life. He doesn’t need a white picket fence and granite counters. He doesn’t need a stepson who hates him or a wife who still loves her ex-husband. 

He needs his dogs. He needs a stream. He needs the comfort of his career. That’s all he needs.

He doesn’t want to sit through another dinner with her sister. He doesn’t want Paul to ask him about the game that he didn’t watch. He doesn’t want her mother glaring at him across the dinner table.

He doesn’t want a tepid sex-life with someone who isn’t attracted to him. He’d rather be alone.

The decision makes him feel guilty. Like he’s wasted so much of Molly’s time, and she deserves better than that.

He deserves better than he’s got, too.

He fills out the paperwork quickly, staring at the offer with a shocked expression. He’d be making at least twenty grand a year more than he has at his private practice, especially with the stipend for future consults. 

He’s making the right decision. Hannibal helped him make the right decision.

His phone chimes as he’s heading to his office, and he glances down to an unknown number sending him a text. He checks it once he’s in the parking lot of his building and grins.

‘5 Chandler Square, Baltimore

You may come whenever you’re finished at the office. My last appointment is at four.  
I look forward to seeing you.  
-HL’

So formal, even in a text. He touches his screen, debating how to respond for a few minutes while he saves the contact, the name listed only as ‘Hannibal’.

He sends a quick text, ‘Would you like me to bring anything? Wine? Dessert?’ He could stop somewhere and pick something up.

The reply is immediate. ‘Thank you, but no. Your presence is all I’m requesting.’

He debates for a minute, sweating nervously in his car while he fidgets with his phone. ‘I look forward to seeing you, too.’

The reply doesn’t come immediately, so Will busies himself with unlocking his door and getting a pot of coffee going when his phone chimes again. ‘You can text me or call this line whenever the mood strikes you. Don’t hesitate to reach out.’

He grins like a fool at his phone, biting his lip as he replies. ‘Likewise, Hannibal.’

He just knows that wherever he is, his mouth is quirked in that little approving grin that Will adores causing.

His day drags on as he calls new clients to terminate their contracts. None of them are pleased, but he doesn’t particularly give a shit. He doesn’t have time in two weeks to wrap up their petty bullshit, and he’s not inclined to offer to try.

His embezzler is somewhere in Florida, based on the trail of bank statements he’s tracked. He really doesn’t want to make a trip there, so he makes a few calls and traces him to a general area before calling his client and telling them that he’s got a general location in New Port Richey, but no address. He gives them the cost of further investigation, and it’s turned down. 

He’d get a little check for his work, and he’s happy with that.

He leaves his office at six, standing in front of the glass door to smooth his worn button-down and fix his wild curls. He wishes there were something he could do about the bags under his eyes, but there isn’t. Hannibal must be used to that, by now.

It takes about thirty minutes to get to Hannibal’s house, and the neighborhood is an affluent one. His house looks like it should be an apartment building, it’s that huge. Will knows it’s not, though.

He knocks on the door, fidgeting and shifting his feet when Hannibal opens it, smiling warmly. “Will,” he breathes. “Come in. Make yourself at home, please.”

Will walks into the dark foyer, stripping his coat and his blazer off while glancing around. It’s opulent, and it’s entirely Hannibal. He turns to the man, appraising him with a quick roam of his eyes. He’s got a fitted white button-down on, but the buttons at his throat are undone, and his sleeves are rolled up crisply against his corded forearms. Will stares at them as though Hannibal is nude.

His shirt tapers neatly with the narrowness of his waist, emphasized by the slim cut of his black slacks. He’s… mouthwatering. Will licks his dry lips, glancing up at Hannibal to note that he’s getting the same appraisal right back. “Blue is your color,” he notes absently. “Green is lovely, but your eyes… Will,” he says softly.

Will blushes as he steps up to Hannibal, extending his hand for his expected hand… shake? Hold? He’s not sure, except that he wants to touch him. Hannibal takes his hand gently, his long fingers encasing his palm. Will takes a deep breath, scenting his familiar notes of cedar and citrus. His eyes follow up the path of their hands to his forearms, and Will can’t help himself when he slides his hand from Hannibal’s own to touch the soft skin of his wrist, then inner arm. Hannibal allows it, and Will hears the soft exhale of his breath as he traces his finger along a vein. “Food smells good,” Will remarks absently while his fingers keep touching soft skin.

Hannibal’s eyes stay connected to Will’s trailing finger; his mouth gently parted as he watches. “Loin with pomegranate sauce and Farro pilaf,” he says with a quirk of his mouth. 

“Do you need a hand? I can chop things,” Will chuckles.

“All taken care of,” he replies, glancing up at Will with a gentle smile and retracting his arm from Will’s fingers. “Although I would appreciate your company in the kitchen.”

The absurdity of it makes Will huff out a laugh. “You’d appreciate my company? You might be the only one.”

“Your fiancé appreciates your company,” Hannibal replies with the tiniest, unreadable expression on his face.

“Does she?” Will grimaces. “I don’t know if that’s true.”

Hannibal’s mouth twitches, but he waves his hand towards the kitchen, and Will follows him. “Wow,” Will marvels while Hannibal continues working at the counter. “This looks like a restaurant kitchen. Look at the size of your fridge!” 

“I host dinner parties on occasion,” Hannibal says, pausing his hands to look up at Will with a smirk. “Sometimes 30 to 40 people come, and I need refrigerators for that.”

“You cook all the food for that many people? Is it buffet style?” Will chuckles.

“I do the cooking,” Hannibal grins. “And it is not buffet style.”

Will can imagine the swanky dinner parties, and grimaces at the thought. “So, is cooking your escape?”

Hannibal stills, tipping his head while considering the question. “My escape?”

Will shrugs. “Like fishing is for me. The place you take yourself when you need to relax.”

“I suppose it’s one of my… escape methods,” Hannibal chuckles. “I have a few.”

“Everyone does,” Will agrees. “I enjoy fixing boat motors and being with my dogs. My favorite escape is fishing, though.”

Hannibal grins, “Then I’d have to say my favorite is composing on my harpsichord or my theremin. I find the most tranquility, then. Perhaps sketching might be a close second.”

“Composing?” Will asks with a raised eyebrow. “Of course, you write music. Would you play for me?”

Hannibal pours something into a pan on a burner, and it goes up in flames, earning a chuckle from Will and a little smile from Hannibal in response. “When we have time, yes.”

Will nods as the flames go out, and Hannibal keeps tossing the pan to stir it. “Is there a place, for you? A physical embodiment of your escapes, I guess? For me, it’s the stream where I go fishing. I hope to someday find a property nearby. It’s my… sanctuary. The place I feel most myself.”

“The Capella Palatina in Palermo, Sicily is that place for me, then,” Hannibal admits with a small smile while taking something from the stove. “The light of the chapel in the afternoons is possibly the most beautiful thing I’ve seen.”

“Are you religious?” Will asks and realizes it’s not an appropriate question as soon as the words have left his lips. 

Hannibal doesn’t look offended, though. His smile is almost amused, in fact. “Not particularly. Not that I don’t believe, per say. Life is too miraculous to be merely happenstance. I just doubt He’s as interested as people seem to think He is. I don’t pray, or anything similar. No one is listening. I hope that doesn’t offend you.”

“Not at all,” Will assures him. “I’ve never been particularly religious. Wasn’t raised to be, either. I’ve never believed in the strict separation of good and evil. Good people can have shades of immorality, just like people that others would consider evil can have good in them. I don’t think anyone earns a right to heaven, in the same way that I think everyone could, in their own way, earn their right to hell.”

“You must love Jack Crawford’s Evil Minds Museum, then,” Hannibal muses. 

“Not particularly,” Will admits with a laugh. “It’s reductive to reduce those serial killers as purely evil. Many of them had families who had no idea that their loved ones engaged in such… proclivities. It’s cruel to their families to portray them as nothing but devils. They must have had some good in them, right? To earn the love of others like that.”

“Do you believe they were capable of loving their families in return?” Hannibal asks while he plates their food beautifully on two gold-rimmed plates. 

“Everyone is capable of love,” Will replies, looking up into Hannibal’s eyes pointedly. “Just like everyone is capable of cruelty.”

Hannibal gestures for Will to follow him, and Will sits at the long dining table while Hannibal sets his plate in front of him first, then his own plate down at the head of the table. There’s a bottle of deep red wine already opened and allowed to breathe, and Hannibal pours some into Will’s wine glass, then his own. “Is red wine alright?” he asks once it’s already poured.

“It’s perfect, thank you,” Will assures him.

Hannibal waits for him to try the… loin? Pork? He didn’t really specify, Will realizes. It doesn’t matter, really, because the pomegranate sauce is sweet and tart, and the meat is rich and salty, and it’s the most delicious thing Will has ever eaten in his entire life. “Wow,” he moans. “This is incredible. Thank you.”

“Will,” Hannibal breathes, his mouth quirked in the way that shows he’s pleased. “You are more than welcome.”

They eat in companionable silence for a few moments, but mostly because Will is seriously enjoying his meal. His little grunts and moans are mostly involuntary. Mostly, because Will likes the way Hannibal stills and watches him with each sound, almost predatory. “Have you had anymore night terrors?”

Will sips his wine, shrugging his shoulders. “Yeah. No sleep walking, though. I think… I think the sleep walking was my unconscious way of getting away from Molly. She’s been at her Mother’s house all week, so I’ve had the house to myself.”

Hannibal arches an eyebrow at that. “She’s not been with you all week?”

“No,” Will chuckles humorlessly. “My sexual history is like a repellent, apparently. I’ve already decided that I’m ending it with her, probably tonight.”

“I’m… sorry to hear that,” Hannibal replies.

“Are you?” Will asks before he can reconsider it. “I wanted so desperately to have a normal life… but I think I’m meant to be alone.”

“If you are alone, it is because you are unique,” Hannibal glances up at him, and his eyes are heavy with something that Will can’t place. 

“Weird,” Will corrects him miserably. “I’m weird. You can say it, I’m not offended.”

“It’s fine to be weird,” Hannibal grins. “I assure you, of the two of us, I am much weirder than you.”

“Clearly,” Will laughs while his eyes travel awkwardly to the depiction of Leda and the Swan over the fireplace, then to the random animal skull filled with flowers on the dining table. Hannibal chuckles, lifting his wine glass up. Will takes his own glass, and they clink them together before each taking a sip.

“The armor that you wear,” Will begins, shifting in his seat awkwardly. “The fences and the walls. Is it because you lost your parents?”

“No,” Hannibal replies with a grimace. “I… I don’t speak of why with anyone, and I’m not certain I want to, Will.”

“Sorry,” Will blushes, covering his face with his hand. “I shouldn’t have… It’s none of my business.”

Hannibal tugs his bottom lip between his teeth, tipping his head as he considers what he’s about to say. Every word he utters is well thought out before it’s spoken, unlike Will who blurts and bumbles through conversations rudely. “For the first time in my life, I want to speak of her. I want you to… know. It’s unbearably frustrating, as I’ve never desired for someone to…”

“Know you,” Will supplies, and Hannibal shakes his head.

“See me,” he confesses with a sigh of frustration. “You warned me that someday someone would sneak over the fence and under the walls. You did not indicate that it would be you that did it.”

“I don’t think I’ve breached a wall yet,” Will chuckles. “If anything, I’m snared in the barbed-wire fencing.” Will reaches tentatively out, stroking his fingers along the inside of Hannibal’s soft wrist. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t realize I was… pushing you.”

“You aren’t,” Hannibal assures him. “At least not pushing me anywhere I am not willing to go.”

Will swirls the wine in his glass, debating what he wants to say. He wants Hannibal to see him, too. “I lied to you when I said I don’t remember my mother,” he admits in a rush. He swallows tightly, glancing up at Hannibal, who looks surprised by the admission. “I remember her perfectly. I look just like her. She and I have the same eyes, the same hair. I have her ears, unfortunately. I remember when she held me at night after a nightmare that our skin was the exact same shade. She wanted to love me. She wanted to, but she… she didn’t. As I grew up, I realized she might have had depression. Maybe bipolar. It wasn’t treated, obviously. I loved her fiercely, and she… she still left me.”

“If love were enough to keep someone with you, then I’d still have my sister,” Hannibal replies softly. “Mischa. She was younger than I. My mother passed while delivering her, and my father harbored incredible resentment for my sister because of it. I raised her, and I loved her enough for my father who did not care for her in the slightest. When she… when she was killed, a piece of me died with her.”

“You carry a piece of her with you, though,” Will says quietly. “She was your blood. Your family. She’s still with you in the same way that my mother is still with me.”

“It feels like breathing life into her again, speaking of her with you,” Hannibal whispers. “It’s not… as unpleasant as I assumed it would be.”

Will smiles softly when Hannibal turns his wrist, lacing their fingers together. Will holds his breath while Hannibal smooths his thumb against his hand, the touch sending little shocks of pleasure across his skin. “You can tell me about her whenever you want to,” Will tells him. 

“I’ll take you up on that offer, I think,” Hannibal smiles.

“Good,” Will replies, allowing his own thumb to graze the inside of his wrist again. “I think I like our conversations more than therapy.”

Hannibal laughs, his eyes twinkling in the low light of the room. “As do I, Will.”

“I’m dreading having the talk with Molly tonight,” Will admits softly. “She’s not going to take it well.”

“Your happiness is just as important as hers,” Hannibal assures him, and Will nods.

“I know,” Will sighs, leaning forward in his seat so he can trail his fingers up the exposed skin of his lean forearms. The skin is unbelievably soft, and Will notes how golden his skin looks compared to Will’s pale complexion. “We’ve both wasted each other’s time. It’s not her fault, and it’s not mine, either. It’s just… over.”

“Where will you go?” Hannibal asks.

“I have an air mattress at my office. I’ll stay there until I figure something else out. I have a bit in savings, plus a good amount that I was planning to use for our wedding and honeymoon. It’ll be a good down payment on a house, I think. Maybe one along my stream.”

“If you… If you need assistance with anything at all, please come to me, Will,” Hannibal says tentatively. Will could feel a slight hesitance from him to offer something like that, as if the offer of assistance just isn’t something he does often.

“Thank you, but I think I’ll be fine, Hannibal,” he assures him with a smile. 

“Would you care to join me in my study? A nightcap before the end of this evening?” 

Will smiles, “Sure. Although my dad taught me that when someone is kind enough to cook for you, you help them clean up after dinner.”

“That would be the purpose of my dishwasher,” he laughs. “I’ll soak the plates until later. It’s no worry at all.”

Will helps him at least clear the table and get the dishes soaking before they make their way to a grandiose study. It is absolutely stuffed with beautiful things, and the scent of it is rich leather and used books. Will turns to him as he pours them each a few fingers of scotch. “This is a beautiful room,” Will admits to him with a little smile.

“It’s my favorite room in the house, also,” Hannibal agrees. “Aside from my kitchen, I spend most of my time in here.”

Will wanders around, noting a few sketches on the desk. He glances up at Hannibal for permission to look at them, and Hannibal hands him a glass of scotch. “You may look through them, if you want.”

Will blushes as he flips through some absolutely beautiful sketches. They look like pieces that should be in an art museum. There are drawings of European buildings, people, landscapes. His mouth falls open when he comes across a likeness of his own face, drawn reverently and beautifully. Every detail from his own slightly crooked nose to his thick lashes is drawn lovingly, and Will blushes self-consciously as he looks up at Hannibal again. “These are… beautiful. You drew me,” he says obviously, and embarrassingly.

“I’ve always loved drawing beautiful things,” Hannibal replies easily, and Will’s blush heads to his neckline. 

“Beautiful things,” he repeats disbelievingly while looking down at his own likeness. “Hannibal,” he breathes.

A warm hand covers his own, and the scent of spicy cologne fills his nostrils. He can feel the body heat of the gorgeous man against his left side, and he leans into it as he tilts his head up. They’re so close Will’s curl on his forehead catches the fringe of Hannibal’s bangs, and he breathes out, sliding his eyes from soft lips, over arched cheekbones, then to honeyed eyes that are blown out as they look down at Will’s face.

Will turns slowly, and Hannibal leans into his space further. It would take no effort at all to close the distance between their mouths, and Will’s own mouth waters at the thought. Hannibal licks his lips as though the thought entices him, too, and Will leans forward on autopilot.

Their lips brush gently, just damp skin catching and caressing as Will holds his breath. His eyes close as Hannibal presses a little more, and their lips brush and linger. Will catches the sweet flavor from the inside of his bottom lip, and he lets out a breathy little moan as he leans in to capture the flesh between his lips, savoring it.

The noise spurs Hannibal forward, and their lips meet fully. Will drops his glass to the desk as he reaches up, the lure of sharp cheekbones too much to ignore anymore. His fingertips trace the edges of his face while Hannibal’s own grip his waist, tugging him closer. Will tips his head, parting his mouth in invitation that Hannibal accepts eagerly. Hannibal’s hand trails from his waist to the small of his back as Will's tongue brushes Hannibal’s for the first time, and Will’s knees almost give out.

The kiss deepens, and Will melts against his chest. Their tongues and mouths move slowly, savoring and tasting while little zings of pleasure course through Will’s limbs. Will’s never been kissed like this before. Hannibal isn’t thinking of other things or imagining someone else. He’s focused on Will alone, and the realization of that makes Will kiss back harder. Deeper.

Hannibal accepts his vigor, bringing their bodies closer. Close enough that Will can feel he’s affected by this, just like Hannibal can likely feel how affected Will is against his thigh, too. Hannibal pulls away from his mouth to breathe, but he doesn’t break their connection completely. He takes sweet sips of Will’s mouth, sucking each lip between his own before licking back inside. Will slides his hands from his face, down his chest. Each muscle under his shirt is well-defined and firm under his fingers, and his cock pulses in his slacks as he considers what Hannibal must look like without his shirt on.

A sharp, loud, ringtone pulls them away from one another, and Will licks his lips as he looks up apologetically. “I should’ve shut that off, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Will,” he breathes, his voice dark and molten. 

Will reaches into his pants pocket and notes that Molly is calling him. He steps away from Hannibal’s arms, frowning in apology as he answers the call. “Hey,” he answers absently, touching his swollen lips.

“Where are you?” she asks in irritation. 

“I told you I had an appointment with Dr. Lecter, tonight,” he reminds her.

“It’s nine thirty, Will,” she scolds him. “Don’t tell me you’re still in therapy.”

“Oh,” Will replies in surprise. “Uh, no. I went back to the office to finish up a few things. I’ll be home soon.”

“I’m going to bed. You can sleep on the couch if our relationship means so little to you.”

She hangs up, and Will groans as he sets his phone back in his pocket. “I didn’t realize I’ve been here so long.”

“You lied to her about where you are,” Hannibal points out, and Will turns to him with a scowl.

“I hardly want to tell her that our relationship is ending by admitting to her that I was kissing our therapist, Hannibal,” he replies bitterly. 

“Forgive me,” Hannibal replies, turning away as he sips his scotch. “When it comes to you, I feel…”

“Possessive,” Will supplies, and Hannibal nods curtly. “I feel the same way.”

“I shouldn’t have kissed you, yet,” Hannibal admits with a tilt of his head. He licks his bottom lip again as if he’s savoring Will’s kiss, and heat flares through Will with the small gesture. 

“I hate that I’ve officially cheated,” Will agrees with a little frown. “I don’t regret that kiss, though.”

“I’m usually very good with restraint,” Hannibal continues, sipping his scotch with a little furrow between his brows. “You test me, Will.”

Will grins as he takes a sip of his own scotch; the smokey, smooth flavor soothing his suddenly spiked nerves. “Should I tell her that there’s someone else?”

Hannibal swallows tightly, and Will watches his Adam’s apple bob enticingly. “You can tell her whatever you wish.”

Will shakes his head, placing his glass back down against the desk to walk over to him. He touches Hannibal’s chest lightly, stepping into his space to lift his chin with his other hand. “I’m asking you… is there someone else to tell her about? What am I to you?”

Hannibal stares down at him heavily, gripping his waist in his large hand. He’s so much… bigger than Will is. Will feels engulfed by him, and the thought isn’t unappealing. “You are… unexpected.”

Will frowns softly, not quite sure what that means. “Is that… good?”

“It’s alarming,” Hannibal replies with a chuckle. “My forts have been decimated. My fencing torn down. I feel… exposed.”

Will chuckles as he steps further into his space, trailing his hand down to grip his slender waist. “So I should admit to her that there’s… someone else.”

“Yes,” Hannibal agrees hesitantly. “Relationships that start like this usually don’t work out, Will.”

“Does that worry you?” Will wonders with a tilt of his head. Hannibal’s hand comes up as though it’s involuntary, touching the exposed length of his throat softly. Will closes his eyes as Hannibal traces his jaw, then his neck with soft fingertips. 

“Yes,” Hannibal admits while leaning forward to brush his lips gently against Will’s. “I don’t want to lose this because it started with adultery.”

“Did it start with adultery?” Will wonders. “I think it started with trust. Friendship. I feel like I’ve known you for years, and it’s only been a few weeks. I don’t know if I have to tell you this or not, but I’ve never connected with anyone like this. Never.”

“Likewise,” Hannibal grins as he leans in again, and Will meets him halfway for a soft kiss. The hand that Hannibal has on his neck trails up as their mouths part, sliding into his hair. He groans into the kiss, and Will sucks his tongue gently, gripping his waist like a lifeline.

They part with blown out pupils, their eyes trailing over one another’s faces slowly. “I should be going,” Will say reluctantly. “Thank you for tonight.”

“You’re most welcome,” Hannibal assures him as he steps away. “Anytime, Will.”

“Is it alright if I reach out to you this week? Tell you what’s going on?” Will asks hesitantly.

“I’d prefer if you did, yes,” Hannibal agrees.

Hannibal walks him to the door where they both loiter for a few minutes, just staring at one another. The tension between them is thick enough that Will can feel it like a fog, and he realizes that the last thing he wants is to leave. He has to, though. “Goodnight, Hannibal.”

There is a little huff of breath that Will hears from the other man before he is slammed back against the door, his mouth being devoured while large hands grip him and tug him closer. Will moans while his own hands regain some semblance of control over themselves, gripping Hannibal’s strong back.

Hannibal licks into his mouth while his strong thigh eases between Will’s legs, and Will rocks into the muscle, relieving a bit of tension. Hannibal’s mouth trails down his jaw, licking the skin of his neck and kissing the tendons there. Carefully. So as not to leave marks. 

Will wants to be marked. Not today, though.

Will reaches between their bodies boldly, cupping the generous heat of Hannibal’s erection through his slacks. He earns himself a throaty little moan for it, and Will arches against him, pressing his cock more firmly against Hannibal’s leg as the gorgeous man against him suckles at his Adam’s apple. Hannibal rocks into his palm while they gasp against one another, and Hannibal pulls away enough to speak. “Was it me you were thinking of when you touched yourself, Will?”

“Yes,” Will answers automatically, gripping him tighter in his slacks. There’s a hiss of pleasure as Will traces the long, thick, line of it through his pants, and he wishes he could taste him. “I imagined your mouth. Your fingers. Your long, long, fucking legs,” he gasps as Hannibal reaches between them to cup him through his slacks, too.

“What were my long, long, legs doing when you thought of them?” Hannibal asks with a breathy chuckle, nipping gently against Will’s jawline as they rub one another through their pants.

Will moans, rocking his hips into his warm grip. “They were wrapped around my waist,” Will breathes, leaning forward to capture Hannibal’s mouth again in a wet kiss. “They were around me while I was inside of you.”

“Will,” he breathes out like a prayer as they kiss deeply, rocking into one another’s hands and panting against one another’s mouths. Will was close. So fucking close, it was almost embarrassing.

“Hannibal,” Will pleads, but he’s not sure for what. More of this, more of something else, more of Hannibal’s mouth. Hannibal seems to understand, and he grips him tight through his slacks, and Will’s head rolls back against the door as Hannibal sucks at his neck, then his jawline, then his mouth again.

The hand that isn’t gripping him through his slacks comes around his hip, gripping the flesh of his ass roughly and Will moans into his mouth, sucking his tongue as they rub one another. Will wants to ask if he can do something more for him. He wants to put his mouth on him in the worst way, but Hannibal pulls away reluctantly, and Will sighs in frustration as he steps back. 

Will lets him go, his palm hot from the weight and warmth of Hannibal’s cock against it, and he clenches his fist to keep the heat of it there. “Forgive me,” Hannibal breathes, licking his swollen lips and adjusting himself discretely in his slacks. He looks… debauched, and Will can’t imagine he looks any better.

“Nothing to forgive,” Will sighs, pulling in deep, calming breaths to settle himself out. He’s throbbing in his pants, and he shifts uncomfortably as his cock drags against his boxers. 

“There is, though,” Hannibal argues. “You deserve better than this. You’re more to me than this.”

“As are you,” Will agrees with a chuckle. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want you like this, too.”

“You need to leave, before I don’t allow you to,” Hannibal grins. “Will,” he says softly as he leans in and presses a sweet, gentle kiss against his mouth. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

Will laces his fingers through the soft, dark, hair at the nape of his neck, holding his face against his as he deepens the kiss gently. Hannibal allows it, tilting his head to press their lips softly before pulling away. 

Hannibal opens the door for him while Will pulls on his blazer, then his coat. The cold from outside seeps into all the warmth of his skin and sucks it out. “Goodnight, Will.”

Will smiles as he steps out onto the landing, turning to Hannibal who’s followed him out. He presses another soft kiss to his mouth before Will turns and leaves.

It feels like he’s leaving a piece of himself behind has he goes.

When he gets home, all the lights are out. The house has a wounded feel to it, as though a battle is about to happen here, and there would be bloodshed. 

He doesn’t bother going upstairs to change or brush his teeth, as he knows Molly is likely waiting for a fight. He takes his dogs out for a little bit, tracing his fingers over his still-swollen mouth and grinning like an idiot. His life was about to fall apart, but what could rise from the ashes might be worth the flames.


	6. Chapter 6

Molly wakes him on the couch the next morning, scowling at him as he blinks awake. “We need to talk, Will,” she sighs.

“Mm,” Will agrees, but he’s absolutely exhausted. His dreams weren’t… unpleasant. They involved long legs and a soft mouth. High cheekbones and long fingers. He’s frustrated when he wakes up, and he tugs the blanket higher to hide his body’s reaction to his dreams from Molly’s harsh eyes. “Tonight. After work.”

She nods as she walks towards the kitchen. “Tom is taking Wally tonight,” she tells him as she pours herself a coffee. “So we are having a chat tonight. You aren’t putting it off anymore.”

Wally comes downstairs as Molly takes a sip of her coffee. He and Will make eye contact, and the kid rolls his eyes as he puts a Pop-tart in the toaster oven. “So, Mom,” Wally says loudly, intentionally dragging Will’s eyes to him as he sits up on the couch. “Are you coming to Dad’s this weekend, too?”

Molly sets her mug down roughly as she glances towards Will in a panic. “What? No, Walt. Of course, not.”

Will stares into the kitchen with a little frown on his face as Walter turns to him with a mocking grin. “I just figured you might, seeing as how we’ve stayed there all week.”

Will’s eyes leave the shitty child to look over to Molly, who’s fidgeting with her coffee cup. “You didn’t stay with your mother.”

Molly sighs, glancing over to Walt who’s smiling to himself while blowing on a cinnamon Pop-tart. “Go to the bus stop, Wally,” she says sternly.

Walt looks up at her in confusion, “The bus isn’t coming for like a half an hour.”

“Go,” she says urgently. “Right now.”

He rolls his eyes as he picks up his backpack. “See you later, Will,” the kid says with a chuckle as he steps out the door.

Will fucking hates the kid, and he wishes he would have said something other than the blank stare he gave as he walks past. “You stayed with Tom this week.”

Molly sighs as she paces the living room. “My mom is in Florida on a vacation. I stayed on his couch, Will.”

“Why should I believe that?” Will asks bitterly. “You lied to me. You went to him after you heard that I’ve slept with men. You were hurt and disgusted. You still love him, so why should I believe that nothing happened?”

“He kissed me,” she blurts out, blushing to her bangs. “It didn’t escalate because I stopped it.”

“I wanted to wait until tonight, but I don’t think I can,” Will sighs, scrubbing a hand across his face. “There’s someone else for me too, Molly.”

She sets her mug down on the coffee table harshly, and coffee spills on the wood. “You? You’re cheating on me? You can’t even fucking connect to me, Will. Are you kidding me?”

Will scowls at that, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. “I can’t connect to you because you’re still in love with your ex. You hate everything about me, now. What used to be a puzzle for you has become tedious, right? You don’t love me. Not for who I am.”

“You’re ending it between us?” Molly asks, and her face is ashen as she stares at Will. “Who is it that you’re fucking leaving me for? Is it a man?”

Will sighs, and he covers his face with his hands. “I’m not leaving you for anyone. I’m leaving because I can’t do this anymore. Go back to Tom. I bet he’ll take you back in a minute.”

“That’s not an answer,” she argues. “Is it a man, Will?”

“Yes,” he replies harshly, tearing his hands from his face to glare up at her. “Yeah, it’s a man.”

Molly shakes her head, chuckling without much humor. “Have you fucked him? Should I get tested for fucking venereal diseases?”

“I haven’t fucked him,” Will shouts into the room, and Molly flinches. “Should I ask if I should get tested, too? Have you been fucking Tom?”

“No,” she replies softly. “Besides, it wouldn’t be the same if I did.”

“Because gay men are the only people who can get VD, right? Fuck off,” Will blurts out, standing from the couch and walking towards the stairs. 

“Who is it that you’re… seeing?” she asks, and he pauses on the steps. “Is it a client? Someone you met at the FBI?”

“No,” Will replies. “It doesn’t matter who he is because he’s not the reason. You know that.”

“Were you with him last night?” Molly asks. Her eyes are caught on his neck, and Will absently touches his throat to note there’s a little bit of a sting when he presses there. He’s got a mark on his neck, and Will flushes scarlet as he touches it and Molly’s face crumples. They were so careful, he thinks. It must have been right before he left. When they lost a bit of control at the door.

“I…” Will begins, but falters. 

“Tell me it isn’t our fucking therapist,” Molly pleads. “Tell me that.”

“It’s not Hannibal,” he replies immediately, and she laughs. The sound is broken and more of a whimper, and Will flinches away from it. 

“Hannibal,” she repeats with a grimace. “I’ve known him for four years, Will. Do you know how often I’ve used his first name? Never. Not once.”

He’s fucked up, and he knows it as her face changes to one of contempt. “It’s not him,” he repeats uselessly, and he knows she doesn’t believe it for a second.

“His reputation will be fucking ruined, I promise you this,” she chuckles. “What a fucking nice guy. Tearing apart my relationship while fucking around with my fiancé.”

“Don’t ruin his life for this,” Will pleads while his hands shake. He clenches them into fists as he turns to her. “It’s not him, Molly. It’s… it’s an ex of mine.”

“I wonder how often you’ve lied to me, Will,” she replies softly. “Do you know how well-off he is? Do you even realize he’s in all the social pages? He’s basically royalty, a count, I think. He’s always at parties with some bimbo on his arm. Do you think he wants anything from you other than what you’ve been giving him? You’re an idiot if you think that.”

Will flinches again as he considers her words. “Like I said, it’s not because of anyone else. It’s because you and I aren’t working out. The fact that you go to Tom and let him kiss you should be all the explanation you need.”

He heads upstairs numbly, shutting the bathroom door behind him. He might’ve accidentally torn down Hannibal’s entire life. If Molly makes a stink that their therapist broke up their relationship, it will affect his practice. He stares in the mirror and notices the tiny bruise at the base of his throat. It barely looks like anything, but it’s enough of a mark that puts the pieces together if you know what to look for. He touches it gently, rubbing at it with shaking fingers. He needed to call him to tell him that Molly knows. She knows because Will fucked up royally.

He showers quickly, dressing in a flannel shirt and beige slacks. He brushes his teeth on autopilot, and he’s certain he’s going downstairs to an empty house.

Molly is sitting on their couch with his phone in her hands, a scowl on her face as she turns to him. “You were at his house last night?”

“How dare you go through my fucking phone,” he blurts out as he tears the device from her hands. He glares down at her and tucks his phone in his pocket, averting his eyes as he realizes that she knows more than he wants her to. 

“You were at his house,” she replies numbly. “He made you fucking dinner?”

“I have to go,” he replies immediately. “I’ll get my stuff out of here as soon as I can.”

“I want it gone today, Will,” she spits out. “I want you gone today.”

“The dogs,” Will says quietly, and she laughs.

“You can keep the ones you came with. The rest are all my signatures on the adoption papers.”

He nods absently, stepping away from her. “Right, yeah.”

“I hope he’s worth it,” she replies as she gathers her purse. 

“It’s not because of him,” he sighs again, and she shakes her head.

“When it falls apart, do not come back to me, Will. I don’t want to fucking hear from you.”

She slams the door on her way out, and Will grips his chest as panic sets in. He should call Hannibal to warn him, but he can’t. He’s not ready to tell him that he’s fucked up his life just yet. 

He spends the morning getting a rental truck and a few boxes before heading back to the house. He packs his clothes and his few belongings. He doesn’t have very much in her house. Just some books and albums, fishing gear and clothes. He’s got a few things that were his Dad’s, and he packs the few boxes up and puts them in the back of the truck. He wanders through the house one last time, packing up the few stray things that he’s forgotten. His coffee mug his partner bought him in New Orleans. “Fishing: a jerk on one end of a fishing line, waiting for a jerk on the other.”

He grins as he wraps it in a paper towel, setting it in the box. His phone charger that’s still attached to the kitchen outlet. His work boots by the door. 

There are photos around the house, but none that Will wants to take with him. He’s got a cheap desk in the third bedroom, but he’s not going to bother taking it with him. He can get himself another one.

He gathers up Winston and Buster, leashing them as he pets the other three dogs. “Sorry guys,” he whispers. “I’ll miss you.”

He hates leaving them behind, but he has to. He has no legal right to ask for them.

He drives away from the house in a haze, and he barely hears his phone ringing as he drives into his office parking lot. The Bentley that’s waiting for him when he arrives draws his attention. 

He climbs from the truck as Hannibal gets out of his car, his face a drawn mask. Will walks over to him, and Hannibal steps back from him pointedly. “Why would you tell her it’s me, Will? Do you realize what you’ve done to my practice? My reputation?”

“I didn’t tell her it was you,” Will replies, and his voice is defeated. Withdrawn. 

“She came to my office this morning to tell me that you ended it with her because you wanted to continue seeing me. Is that not what happened?” Hannibal asks, and his eyes are hard as they look down at Will.

Will feels… betrayed by it, for some reason. “She saw this,” he replies as he tugs his shirt collar down to show the mark on his neck. Hannibal’s mouth falls open, and Will licks his lips as he glances away. “She went through my phone while I was in the shower. She figured it out when she read our texts. I used your first name earlier this morning… it was an accident. I didn’t mean… I never meant…”

“I didn’t realize I marked you,” Hannibal breathes out, and his face softens a little bit. “Forgive me, please.”

Will shakes his head as he swallows tightly, his vision blurring as tears welled in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Hannibal. I never meant for this to happen to you. I… fuck, I’ve ruined your life, haven’t I? It’s over between us before it even started.”

Hannibal bites his bottom lip as he leans against the side of his car, glancing away from Will with a sigh. “While this isn’t… ideal, you’ve hardly ruined my life. It’s an obstacle, no doubt. She came into the office and announced to new patients in the waiting area that I was fucking her fiancé, so they left, of course.”

“Fuck, I… I am so sorry, Hannibal.” Will covers his face as he paces the parking lot, tugging a hand through his curls. “I guess I won’t be seeing you anymore.” He wishes he could keep the heartbreak from his voice, but he can’t.

“I don’t want that,” Hannibal replies immediately, and Will pauses in his aggressive pacing. “Will, I don’t want to not see you. I was… angry when she led me to believe that you tossed me under the proverbial bus, but I see now that she was only trying to cause a rift.”

“She’d been staying at Tom’s,” Will says absently. “Wally… he asked her this morning if she’d be coming with him to his house this weekend, seeing as how they spent all week there. They’ve kissed, and I’m sure there’s more to it than that. I don’t know why she’s on a witch hunt. She’s… no better than I am.”

Hannibal doesn’t reply, but his face is still… hard. His eyes won’t meet Will’s own, and Will slumps his shoulders. “I need to step away from you, for a while,” Hannibal admits softly. “This looks very poorly for me, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

Will can’t quite manage a vocal response, so he nods his head. He opens his mouth to apologize again, but nothing comes out. 

Hannibal glances over to him again, and whatever he finds on Will’s face softens his features. “I am not ending this, Will. I just… need to figure out what I’m going to do. I’ll have to possibly speak to a lawyer.”

“If it comes to that, I’ll deny all of it,” Will replies immediately. “I’ll make her sound fucking insane. I won’t let anyone ruin your reputation, Hannibal. I swear it to you.”

“I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that,” Hannibal says, swiping a hand across his jaw. “I want to… I want to be with you. With the added attention of a public debacle, it might be difficult to hide what you mean to me.”

“I should’ve called you this morning,” Will says softly. “She wanted my shit out of the house by the time she got home, so I’ve been… busy.”

Hannibal glances up to note the rented pick-up, the boxes in the back, and two nosy dogs in the front seat. “She technically has no right to demand a single day for you to leave the premises.”

“I wanted to be gone, too,” Will replies. “I’m glad I did, because I might have killed her tonight for what she’s done.”

Hannibal grins at that, and his eyes flick away again. “I should be going,” he says softly. “I have a few more appointments before I can go home.”

Will nods again, and Hannibal steps away from the car door to step into Will’s space. Will flinches as he steps closer, and Will averts his eyes to their feet. “I’m sorry,” he says again.

Hannibal tips his chin up, dragging Will’s eyes up to his own. His face still has some signs of rigidity around the set of his mouth and his eyes, but his smile is soft. “I marked you. I made a mistake, and it’s as much my fault as it is anyone else’s.”

“I didn’t know it was there,” Will blurts out. “I came home last night, and I never went upstairs. I slept on the couch, where she woke me up. If I’d have known it was there… I wouldn’t have-”

Hannibal cuts him off by pressing his mouth against Will’s own, silencing him effectively. Will sighs into the kiss, and Hannibal tips his face up more with his thumb, sliding his lips down to the tiny mark against the base of his throat. “Such a small thing,” Hannibal muses while sucking the mark between his lips. “So careless. If I’m to lose everything over it, then it should be worth the prize.”

Will moans as Hannibal nips his skin, and the harsh sting lets Will know that the bruise is much more substantial, now. It might still be able to be covered by the collar of his shirt, though. Hannibal trails his lips upward, caressing his jawline, then his mouth. “I’ll be in touch, Will. I’m not giving up on you.”

“You don’t know how relieved I am to hear that,” Will chuckles. Will raises his hand to gently trace the sharp curve of his cheekbone, and Hannibal leans into the touch as he closes his eyes. His long lashes splay against his cheek, and Will wants nothing more than to drag him into his office and peel him out of his coat. 

“You can still cover it with your shirt collar,” Hannibal tells him, adjusting the collar of his flannel a bit. “I’d apologize for it, but I’m not sorry.”

Will bites his lip as Hannibal steps away, opening his car door. Will wraps his arms around himself as he drives away, and he hopes that this isn’t the end of them. He’s never wanted anything more in his entire life. 

The next few days go by mostly without incident. Will’s office is now his temporary home, and his dogs don’t seem to know what to make of it. He’s reached out to a realtor already, and she’s looking for houses along his stream that are in his price-range. They all would be fixer-uppers, but Will’s okay with that. He’s pretty handy with renovations. 

He doesn't hear from Hannibal, but it doesn't surprise him. He said he'd need time, and Will wants to make sure he's not intruding on him. Molly may have ruined his reputation, but if Will decides to attach himself to his hip, it will be undoubtedly worse for him.

He wraps up his handful of cases that he's been working on in the meantime, and it's easier to do when he works from where he's living. His realtor calls him a few times, and he goes to see a few different houses. One of them is almost an hour away in Wolf Trap, Virginia, but Will's in love with it. It needs a new roof, and it's got some water damage in the walls. Nothing Will feels uncomfortable fixing. The house is just a short walk to Wolf Trap Creek, and it's a beautiful little slice of paradise that cuts through his property.

He puts an offer on it immediately, and it's accepted the same day.

Jack calls him during the week to give him a start date of two weeks from Monday, and Will is smiling from ear to ear as he gets off the phone. 

That gives him some time to fix up his new house and buy some furniture for it.

He... misses Hannibal. The thought unnerves him as he's not known him very long. Will isn't one to get overly attached to people. He doesn't have friends, and he certainly doesn't attach himself to someone after barely a month of knowing them.

Yet, here he is. Attached.

He calls Hannibal's cell phone when he gets to his new house, noting that the phone service out here is a little spotty. He'd need to get a houseline, probably. The call goes to voicemail, and he sighs as he waits for the beep. "Hey. It's... it's Will. I uh, I bought a house. I'm there right now, actually. It's in Wolf Trap, and it's right on the stream I love so much. I've... been thinking of you. I wish you were here to see it, even though the house is... well, it needs work, I guess. I just... hope everything is alright. I..." he pauses and sighs as he debates if he wants to admit this to Hannibal. "I miss you. Talk to you soon, maybe."  
He hangs up and feels like a ripe idiot for calling in the first place. The roofers arrive, and he forgets about the voicemail he's left.

After a few days, the roof is replaced, and he begins tearing out the walls to replace the electrical and drywall that were damaged from water. It's a messy process, but it keeps him busy, and he enjoys working on a home that's his. It takes him the better part of a week to finish it, and he's painting the living area a muted green when Hannibal calls him. He fumbles with his phone as he answers, trying not to sound too eager to talk to him. "Hello?"

"Will," Hannibal sighs. "I got your message. I apologize for not returning your call sooner."

"It's... it's fine, Hannibal," Will replies, but he's not sure he's being exactly honest, either. There's a little piece of him that's certain Hannibal is only calling to tell him that he's not interested in seeing him, anymore.

"So you bought a home," Hannibal muses, and it sounds like he's smiling.

"Yeah," Will chuckles. "Although it's... in need of some love. I'll text you the address, if you're ever in the middle of nowhere, you could stop by."

"I'd like that, Will," Hannibal chuckles. "I'd like you to take me to your stream, too. If it's not too personal to ask for such a thing."

"Of course, it's not," Will laughs. "It'll be the first place I take you."

"I look forward to it," Hannibal replies, and his voice is just the right shade of dark and sultry to make Will shiver. 

"How bad are things for you right now?" Will asks, and he wonders if he should have.

"Quite," Hannibal assures him. "Your dearest Molly has filed a complaint against me for ethical misconduct. It's in my favor, however, as I have not done anything untoward to her, specifically. Someone may be reaching out to you. I find it's only fair to warn you about the call that might be coming."

Will closes his eyes as he considers the mess that he's made of Hannibal's life. "I'm still sorry."

"I'm still not holding you responsible," Hannibal replies dryly. 

"Well I am," Will says miserably. 

"Are you at your new home currently?" Hannibal asks.

"Yeah, I'm painting my living room and kitchen, right now."

"What color?" Hannibal asks, and he hears the little chuckle after he asks it.

"It's called desert sage," Will replies. "Like a moss green, I guess."

"Very relaxing color, I imagine. Perfect for returning home after a long day tracking killers at the FBI."

"I'll be teaching in the academy," Will laughs. "But yeah, the sentiment is the same."

"Has anyone called you with a start date, yet?"

"Yeah, this upcoming Monday," Will smiles, tipping his head to hold the phone in the crook of his neck as he continues painting. "I'm... well, nervous. I got an email for the syllabus, and I've spent my nights practicing my lectures to Buster and Winston."

"I'm hoping they are your dogs and not new beaus," Hannibal replies with a laugh.

"You got me," Will laughs. "I met Buster at a sex dungeon, and Winston at my book club."

"I appreciate a man with an assortment of hobbies. Very refreshing."

"I'm nervous, Hannibal," Will blurts out while he sets the paint roller down in the tray. "I'm wondering if I've made a mistake."

"You haven't," Hannibal replies easily. "Will, you'll be excellent. Perhaps you'd like some company tonight? You could give me a lecture and I'll give you my honest opinion."

"You want to see me?" Will asks dumbly, and Hannibal chuckles.

"I've missed you too, Will. You can't imagine."

"I was just going to finish painting the living room, and then I'm heading back to my office."

"How about you come to my house instead? I'll make us something for dinner."

Will considers that but hesitates. "I'll have my two dogs with me if I come straight from my house."

"That's fine, Will. I don't imagine they're feral?"

Will laughs, "No, they're very well behaved. Still, I'd feel better if we could cordon them off somewhere, maybe the foyer."

"I'll arrange something, then," Hannibal replies. "You may come by whenever, Will. I'm heading home from my office now."

"It might be closer to five," Will admits. "I want to finish this and then it's an hour from here."

"I won't spoil by then," he says assuredly, and Will's certain he won't, too.

"See you soon, then," Will replies, and he's smiling widely when he says it. 

Hannibal must hear it in his voice because the warm chuckle in his ear sounds pleased. "I'm looking forward to it. Goodbye, Will."

"Bye," he bites his lip as he ends the call. 

He's going to Hannibal's house for dinner. Again. This time with his two dogs. He fidgets for a minute, and then hustles through painting the rest of the living room.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SUPER long chapter for you guys, and it's mostly porn. haha
> 
> Tags will be added to as chapter warnings change. There's a story line coming up for a case that... will have trigger warnings. BUT it won't be graphic descriptions. 
> 
> UNTIL then, here is some sweet sexy times <3

Will takes a quick shower at his new house, as there's no shower in his office. He doesn't have a change of clothes, though, so he's got his worn flannel shirt that has green paint on it now, and old jeans that are ripped and painted, too. He sighs as he looks down at himself, touching the worn material with a groan. "A change of clothes would have been a good idea, Graham," he scowls.

He loads his dogs in the car and heads to Hannibal's house, fidgeting with his worn-out clothes the whole way. He at least smells pretty good, but the thought doesn't make him feel better. Not when he knows Hannibal will be dressed impeccably.

He rings the doorbell while his dogs sniff around on the landing, and Hannibal greets him with a wide smile. "Will," he breathes. Will shifts his laptop to his other arm while he struggles to get the dogs into the unknown house. 

Hannibal's barricaded off the foyer with a few benches and chairs, and Will leaves his dogs where they've come in, along with his coat and his laptop. "Be good, you guys. k?"

"Buster and Winston," Hannibal chuckles while placing a bowl of cold water in the enclosure for them.

Will points to the little terrier, "Buster," then to the larger mutt, "Winston."

"Pleased to meet you both," Hannibal grins. "Buster hardly seems the type for a sex dungeon."

"He's open to suggestions," Will counters with a laugh. Hannibal backs him against the wall, and Will grips the soft, red, material of his sweater as their mouths meet. Will parts his lips and Hannibal licks into his mouth sweetly, threading his fingers through Will's curls. Will kisses him back eagerly, clawing at the soft sweater and the hard muscles under it, tilting his head as his mouth is devoured. He tastes sweet, and he smells so fucking good that Will tears away from his mouth to trail kisses towards his neck so he can get a good inhale of the spice of his cologne. Hannibal's hands grip his hair as he sucks on his throat, and Will's fingers wander down his chest to grip his hips. 

Hannibal groans as he presses him tighter to the wall, and Will parts his legs enough for him to slide in closer. Will pulls away from his throat, glancing down at the red flesh to make sure he hasn't bruised him. He doesn't want him to get into more trouble for being unprofessional, besides. "I've missed you," Will breathes out as he wraps his arms around Hannibal's neck. 

Hannibal chuckles as he tucks him against his chest, pressing soft kisses to his temple. "I think it's fairly clear that I've missed you, too."

"Yeah, there are dogs in your foyer," Will laughs.

"You say that as if you know I don't particularly like it," Hannibal muses while tucking one of Will's curls behind his ear. 

"I have eyes," Will replies dryly. "I don't need to be empathetic to see that you are very... particular about your home."

"Particular is a kind way of putting it," Hannibal laughs. "For you, Will, I'll make exceptions."

Will blushes as he steps up on his tiptoes to press a kiss to Hannibal's mouth, and Hannibal leans down a bit with a chuckle as their lips meet again. "I like kissing you," Will admits with a breathy laugh inside of Hannibal's mouth.

Hannibal hums as he licks into Will's mouth, nipping gently on his bottom lip before pulling away. "I'm relieved to hear it, as I think about kissing you to the point of distraction."

"Is that all you want to do to me?" Will asks boldly as his hands travel low down Hannibal's sides, reaching around his narrow waist to grip the firm flesh of his ass. "Kiss me?" he clarifies.

Hannibal groans as he allows Will to tug their hips together, both of their erections dragging roughly. "Clearly not."

"I want you," Will pleads as he presses himself to Hannibal more fully. "I've been thinking about it for weeks, now."

"What's lit a fire under you, darling?" Hannibal laughs, but he allows Will to slide his hands under his sweater to touch the hot skin of his back. 

"You," Will breathes while nipping softly at his jawline. "You've lit a fire, Hannibal."

"I was making dinner," Hannibal says with a chuckle as Will descends down his jaw again, suckling at his Adam's apple as it moves while he talks. 

"It'll keep?" Will wonders, and Hannibal groans as he lifts Will from the floor. Will yelps as he wraps his legs around Hannibal's waist, laughing and kissing his chin and his jawline as Hannibal takes them upstairs to his bedroom. 

"It'll keep," Hannibal assures him as he settles him onto the edge of his massive, fluffy, bed. Will glances around absently, noting the calming blue of the walls and the softness of the sheets under him. 

"God, is this really happening?" Will asks as Hannibal nudges between his thighs, settling his hips over Will's own and grinding down. "Is this a dream? I'll be pissed if I wake up."

"Dreaming of this often, are you?" Hannibal chuckles as he presses his face to Will's neck, nipping the skin with his teeth and tongue. 

"At least it's better than night terrors," Will muses through a moan as Hannibal palms him through his slacks. 

"What do you want, Will?" he asks, and his voice is low and husky as he nips down Will's chest, unbuttoning his morosely embarrassing flannel shirt. 

"You," Will replies with an arch of his back while Hannibal tugs at his nipple with his teeth. He soothes the sting with his tongue, flicking the pointed tip of his tongue over the pebbled flesh. "Take your shirt off."

Hannibal flicks his tongue out over his nipple one more time, chuckling low in his throat. "Needy, Will," he reprimands mildly. He sits back on his knees and lifts his sweater over his head, and Will's throat goes dry as he looks up at him.

He's corded with muscles. His chest, arms, shoulders, and stomach are just compact, lean, muscle. He's got the body of a professional dancer that spends his spare time bodybuilding. Will reaches out to lace his fingers through the masculine smatter of dark chest hair over his broad chest and trails his fingers through the defined lines of muscle appreciatively. "You're gorgeous," Will breathes. "I knew that already, but... seeing you. I... fuck."

Hannibal smirks down at him, arching his back a bit and peacocking his muscles so they roll and flex under his skin. He knows what he looks like, and Will rolls his eyes playfully as Hannibal laughs. "You're beautiful, Will," he replies while his own fingers wander the little muscles along Will's chest and stomach. Will knows that he is in pretty good shape, too, although nothing like the stacked man over him right now.

Will sits up to remove his worn-out flannel, and Hannibal presses their mouths together as Will comes to a sitting position. Their groins line up perfectly, and Will moans into his mouth as he touches the soft skin of his back, trailing his fingers around to trace the delicious lines of muscle along his chest and abdomen. "What would you like, Will?" he asks again, and Will leans away to look up at his sharp features.

He blushes as he debates asking for it, and Hannibal shifts his hips over him purposefully. "You're shy, now?" Hannibal chuckles. "Will, just tell me."

"I want to put my mouth on you," he admits through a moan. "I've, fuck, I've wanted to since the last time I was here. I want to taste you and touch you. I want my mouth around you as you finish."

Hannibal's eyelids flutter shut as his hips stutter over him, and he takes in a deep breath as his eyes open again to focus intensely on Will's own. "Of all the things, I didn't really think that."

"Please," Will begs, and his blush feels like it's scorching his cheeks as Hannibal nods. 

"As if I would refuse you," Hannibal grins. "I want to taste you, too. I wonder if your cock will be as sweet as your mouth."

Will groans as Hannibal slinks down his chest, nipping and suckling the skin. His teeth are a little harsher than Will's used to, but it fuels the fire instead of tampering it down. "You'll wait your turn," Will sasses, and Hannibal looks up in surprise as he's undoing Will's fly. "I want to go first."

"Why would we need to take turns?" Hannibal replies. 

Will's eyebrows furrow in confusion before the realization dawns about what he's suggesting. "Oh," he breathes as heat travels straight to Will's cock, throbbing hotly through his abdomen.

"Is that alright with you?" Hannibal asks with a filthy little smirk on his face. 

"Yeah," he manages, licking his lips at the very thought. He wonders if he'll be any good with the distraction of Hannibal's mouth on him at the same time. The thought doesn't really dissuade him.  
Hannibal stands from the bed to undo his slacks, allowing them to fall down his legs as he toes off his shoes and socks. Will's looking at him while he undoes his own pants, staring at the large, hard, cock encased in deep red boxer briefs. His hands are shaking, so Hannibal helps him drag them down his legs. "These are ready for the rubbish pile, Will," Hannibal laughs.

"I was painting," he replies defensively, momentarily forgetting about whatever anxiety was building up. "I don't wear three-piece suits to paint a room."

"I was kidding," he grins while tugging Will's boxers down his legs. His naked cock hits the air of the room, and Hannibal groans. "Is there any bit of you that isn't absolutely magnificent?" Hannibal wonders as he slides his palms slowly up Will's thighs. "Your mind, your body, your character. It's all so... beautiful."

Will laughs, covering his face with his hand briefly. "My character? Jesus, you got it bad."

"I do," Hannibal agrees. He stands again to slide his boxer-briefs down, and Will's mouth falls open. He's uncut the way that most European men are. It's long, thick, and curved proudly against his stomach. His thighs are corded with muscles, too, and Will can imagine being between those long, strong, legs. Someday soon, he promises himself.

His mouth waters as his eyes slide back down, and Hannibal crawls over his thighs, sitting squarely over them as their erections drag together. Hannibal grips them both in his long fingers, jerking them together gently while Will moans and Hannibal licks into his mouth. Will wants to touch the firm muscle of his ass, so he does, gripping the flesh in his palms and squeezing roughly. Will pulls away as his gut pulses with pleasure, licking his lips of Hannibal's flavor. "I won't last if we keep up like this," he warns him.

Hannibal chuckles and releases their erections to glide his fingers along Will's jawline, tipping his face upwards so he can slant their mouths together again. The kiss is deep and wet, and Will's eyes almost roll back in his head as Hannibal sucks his tongue lewdly, demonstrating what's coming soon.

The thought alone almost sets Will off. "Would you like to be over me? Or me over you? We could lay on our sides if you prefer that?"

Will blushes, shrugging his shoulders. "Uh, well, whatever you want."

"You've never done this before," Hannibal realizes. His lip tucks between his teeth as he debates about something, and Will doesn't want him to change his mind.

"No," Will sighs. "I want to, though. God, I want to."

"You'll be over me, then," Hannibal tells him. "Scoot back onto the bed, Will."

Will shimmies towards the middle of the mattress, and it's big enough that the journey is quite a trek. Hannibal straddles his waist, dragging his balls over Will's erection slowly. "Are you comfortable?"

Will nods as he moans, thrusting up a bit into Hannibal's body heat. "Yeah. Want you, Hannibal."

Hannibal rolls to his side, patting Will's hipbone. "Come have me, then."

The lilt of his voice coupled with the thought alone sends heat flaring through Will's gut. He kisses Hannibal once, allowing his tongue to dart out and taste him briefly. The mechanics of it are a little awkward, so he decides to hell with modesty and throws a leg over Hannibal's waist, straddling him while facing Hannibal's long, hard, cock. 

Will's blush reaches his neck when he realizes what's eye-level for Hannibal right now, and Hannibal purrs under him, stroking the firm globes of Will's ass. Will curls his body downward so he can nose at the length of him. He can smell the musk of his come, the salt and clean of his skin. Will's mouth waters as his nerves subside. He wants this. God, it's all he's thought about. He grips Hannibal's cock in his hand, trying to wrap his fingers around his girth. He pulls the foreskin back, pressing his lips chastely to the glans before wrapping his lips around the head and sucking gently. Hannibal moans, tapping Will's hip to remind him to uncurl his body a bit. 

Will straightens out his legs, and then he's feeling Hannibal jerking his cock gently. It distracts Will a little bit as he waits for the moist heat of a mouth. It doesn't come, so Will wraps his mouth around him again, sucking him down his throat. As soon as the head of Hannibal's cock hits the back of his throat, Hannibal takes him in his mouth and sucks him roughly, and Will groans as he bobs his head in time with what Hannibal's doing to him.

It's difficult, because he wants to moan and sigh, but he can't because his mouth is stuffed with a cock. His own dick is being sucked roughly, Hannibal's clever tongue flicking harshly at his slit, sliding down over his shaft, and then pulling him deep down his throat. Will's trying to be as clever with his own tongue, but he's not sure he is. Hannibal's flavor is delicious, and the weight of him on Will's tongue is better than Will could ever imagine. Without thinking about it, Will grips Hannibal behind his knees and tugs his legs upwards, folding him in half while spreading Hannibal's ass with his hands. He lets Hannibal's cock go from his mouth, trailing sucking kisses to his testicles, then his rim. Hannibal chokes around him as Will traces the fluttering muscle with his tongue, licking and sucking at the rim before testing out the give with a pointed tongue. 

He's never done this for anyone. Never really wanted to before Hannibal, either. 

Hannibal bobs his head around him more roughly, and the wet heat of it urges a harsh moan from Will's throat while he inadvertently jerks his hips downward. "Sorry," he pants out, but Hannibal doesn't seem to mind very much.

He takes what Will gives him, and Will latches onto a testicle, sucking it into his mouth with a roll of his tongue. He pays the same attention to the other one before gliding his wet tongue back to his entrance, licking into him softly. Hannibal squirms under him, and the steady moan from his throat reverberates through Will's cock straight to his back teeth, it feels so fucking good.

Will sucks his rim harshly before letting his legs go so he can suck his cock back down his throat. Hannibal mewls around him, and Will glides him as far back in his throat as he can before reaching up and touching the base of his chin, letting Hannibal feel how far back he is. Hannibal's hips thrust mindlessly, and Will adjusts his position to allow him to take, if he wants to. His own hips grind down, and Hannibal lets out a muffled moan of approval while his own hips thrust upwards. Will rolls his balls in his hands while bobbing on his cock, and Hannibal's hands glide up the back of his thighs to grip his ass cheeks, squeezing them before slipping lower to cup and roll his tight sac.

Will is close. He grips the base of Hannibal's cock so he can suck the head roughly and swirl his tongue around him, collecting the flavor of him against his tongue. Will grinds down as he hollows his cheeks out, swallowing him down so he nestles against the back of his throat. He swallows around him once, twice, and then Hannibal's hips are thrusting up while he moans around Will's cock, sending hot vibrations of pleasure through Will's limbs. 

Will steadies himself as Hannibal spills down his throat, and Hannibal lets him go from his mouth so he can gasp and moan through it, thrusting up into Will's mouth as he finishes. Will laps up all that he has to give, licking and suckling until Hannibal is flinching away from him with a tired chuckle. "Come up here, Will," he asks, and his voice sounds fucked out enough that Will moans as he turns around on the bed. Hannibal urges him to straddle his waist, nudging him up his chest with his large hands. Will looks down at his flushed face in confusion, and Hannibal adjusts his neck on the pillow as Will straddles his chest. 

"What are we doing?" Will laughs as he licks the flavor of Hannibal from his lips.

"You're about to fuck my mouth," Hannibal supplies, and Will jerks his hips involuntarily at the thought.  
Will watches him raptly as he slides his cock between Hannibal's lips, noting the sharp arch of his cheekbones as he hollows his cheeks to suck Will into his throat. Will doesn't think he's going to fuck his mouth. It's not... considerate to do that. 

Hannibal swirls his tongue around him lightly. Teasingly. Will grits his teeth as he presses in further, and Hannibal keeps the suction light enough that nothing will happen if it keeps up like this. If Will wants to come, he'd need to make it happen himself or refuse to do this altogether. "I don't want to hurt you," he says with a troubled grunt of frustration.

The beautiful man under him doesn't respond verbally, but there's a huff of breath through his nose and a sarcastic arch of an eyebrow, and he suckles Will's cock gently in response.

Will's thighs clench. He had been so fucking close, but the feeling was dissipating. His balls throb, and he slides out of Hannibal's mouth slowly before sinking back in. The wet glide of it feels like sin, so he does it again, allowing his head to fall back as his hips pick up their pace. He glances down, and Hannibal's eyes are watching him intently, his large hands cupping and rolling Will's testicles and occasionally gliding over his abdomen. He's feeling Will's muscles move as he thrusts inside of his mouth, and the realization makes Will moan as his hips snap, and Hannibal's jaw loosens as he glides down his throat. 

Will loses himself in it, fucking into his mouth almost roughly. He's still aware that he could choke Hannibal, and he doesn't want to do that. It feels exquisite, and Will moans high in his throat as he works himself to completion. It's Hannibal that's doing this to him, and the thought alone makes Will thrust harder, pumping his cock in and out of the velvety heat of Hannibal's gorgeous mouth. "Fuck, you feel good," Will praises him, and Will reaches down gently to trace the sharp edge of a cheekbone, gliding his knuckles down to follow the dip towards his cheek. He's gorgeous. He's so fucking gorgeous that Will grips his face in his hands and fucks into his mouth, allowing himself to lose a bit of the control he's had.

Hannibal's eyes water, and he moans in his throat as Will pumps into his mouth. "I'm going to come," he warns him desperately. "Hannibal," he cries out as white-hot pleasure rockets through his gut, and he empties down Hannibal's throat. Hannibal licks him clean while Will gasps above him, lacing his fingers through Hannibal's soft, damp, hair. He pulls out from Hannibal's mouth, and Hannibal sucks in a much-needed breath as he licks his lips, grinning up at Will with swollen lips. 

"You're beautiful, Will," he says softly, and Will grins as he slides down his chest, dropping his body weight unceremoniously on top of Hannibal's chest. Hannibal chuckles while he wraps his arms around Will's sweaty torso, dragging their mouths together for a filthy, come-flavored, kiss. Will laughs into his mouth, licking their combined flavor from his tongue. They are good together. In every sense that they can be. 

Will settles out against his chest, pressing damp kisses to his heart, then his collarbone while Hannibal laces his fingers through Will's damp curls. "Thank you," Will says softly, and Hannibal laughs into the space of the room.

"Tell me you're thanking me for calling you beautiful, and not for what we just did," he pleads. Will sits up with a blush on his cheeks, biting his lip at the heavy amusement on Hannibal's face. 

"Maybe both," Will concedes with a shrug. "I've never experienced anything like that. I... I thought I was well seasoned. I guess I'm not."

"You were perfect, Will," Hannibal assures him. " _Well seasoned_ ," he chuckles. "Is that your way of suggesting I might be promiscuous?"

"No," Will laughs. "Maybe just more... adventurous than I am."

"I assure you, Will, I don't do this with everyone. Should I have asked if you'd like a condom?"

"I told you I wanted to taste you," Will argues with an arch expression. " _Should_ I have asked for a condom?"

"No," Hannibal replies softly. "I haven't been with anyone in... quite some time. I've been for a checkup since then."

"That's... good." Will bit his lip, glancing up at him again. "How long is a long time?"

"Almost a year," Hannibal replies. 

"What?" Will asks in disbelief as he sits up on the bed. "No way."

"Yes, way," Hannibal yawns. "I used to be more… ravenous. It became tedious, as I wasn't emotionally involved with any of them. I figured it was much easier to be alone than to have to deal with other people's... feelings and attachments."

"Romantic," Will says sarcastically. 

"You're the first person in my entire life that I've wanted to connect with. In every way," Hannibal confesses softly. His eyes dart away briefly, and Will touches his cheek with gentle fingers. 

"I've wanted to connect with someone else my whole life," Will tells him. "I wanted it so much I would make myself sick over it. It never happened. I forced it with Molly, and I know it's because I was tired of being so alone. You're the first person that's seen me. You see me, Hannibal. And you're still here."

"I don't understand it," Hannibal says with a shake of his head. His dark eyes look up at Will and it knocks the breath out of him. "I do see you. All of it is... beautiful. I don't understand why others aren't able to see it as clearly as I do, but I'm thankful that they don't. I'm thankful that you're mine."

"Am I yours?" Will asks with an embarrassed chuckle. "It feels like that's true. You say you don't understand, but neither do I. You're gorgeous, smart, sassy, funny, and obviously well-off. You have your pick, Hannibal. You could have anyone you wanted. Why the hell would you pick me?"

"Maybe I'm the only one in the world that sees you clearly," Hannibal replies with a tilt of his head. "Including how you see yourself. Your mind is... not linear like everyone else's. It's so refreshing to try and follow your thoughts. To try and gauge your reactions. I don't think I'll ever be able to predict you."

"That sounds an awful lot like instability to me," Will chuckles nervously.

Hannibal laughs, and the warmth of it eases Will a little bit. "Perhaps. It's still lovely, though."

"You know what's crazy," Will begins while trailing his finger across Hannibal's chest. "I can feel you when we're intimate like this. You're not thinking of anything else. You're not wondering about a book you wanted to read. Your eyes are on me the whole time. Your hands are reverent in every touch. I have never experienced that before. That's why I was thanking you. You make me feel like..." he pauses to swallow thickly, and Hannibal touches his cheek with his thumb. "Like I matter."

"Because you do," he assures Will softly. "The only person who has ever breached my forts. I can't say I'm surprised. I've always appreciated beauty in all its forms. You encompass all of them." Will blushes, and Hannibal traces the heat of his cheeks with his fingers. "Beautiful," he smiles. 

Will leans forward and kisses him softly, and Hannibal laces his fingers through Will's hair to keep him close. Their tongues slide gently for a few minutes before Hannibal leans away. "I should finish dinner. Hopefully, it's not ruined at this point."

"If it is, I like toast," Will says with a laugh.

Hannibal rolls his eyes. "Of course, you do. Come on, you can help me in the kitchen."

Will stands from the bed on wobbly knees. His thigh muscles have gotten more of a work-out than he's used to, and he struggles to get into his jeans as Hannibal chuckles from behind him. "Don't laugh," Will scolds him. "I'm a little out of shape for athletic sex."

"Is it strange that I'm pleased to hear that?" Hannibal chuckles as he regretfully covers his naked body in clothes again.

"No," Will laughs. "A little possessive, but no."

They head downstairs and Hannibal goes straight into the kitchen while Will checks on his dogs that look relatively miserable about being cordoned off. "Sorry, guys," he mumbles as he pets them absently. "We'll go for a walk after, okay?"

They perk up with the word, and Will grins at them before heading into the kitchen. Dinner is decidedly not ruined as he pulls a cast iron pot from the oven. "Boeuf Bourguignon," Hannibal says with a smirk. "Almost impossible to overcook, but my roasted potatoes might be on the verge of being too neglected."

"It smells incredible," Will says, and it's not a consolation. Will's mouth is watering as he scents the rich beef and mushrooms in the air. 

Hannibal takes a pot from the stove, stirring it gently. "I made your dogs something simple," he says absently, and Will grimaces. 

"Tell me you didn't really cook for my dogs," he pleads, and Hannibal shrugs. 

"It's nothing, really," he reasons. "Deboned, unseasoned chicken, chicken stock, white rice, and hard-boiled eggs."

"Jesus," Will breathes. "They'll never want to leave. My dog food is usually just chicken breasts and rice with peas and sweet potatoes, usually."

"Do you cook for them?" Hannibal asks and Will nods.

"Have you read what's in canned dog food? It's easier for me to just make it. Sometimes it's cheaper, too. Some of the more expensive foods are... really pricey. Thank you for cooking for them. That's... you're perfect."

"It's nothing, Will," he replies easily. "I wish I would have considered sweet potatoes. That's a good source of vitamins for them."

"They'll be more than fine with their deboned chicken and rice, Hannibal," Will chuckles. "Not to sound ungrateful, but maybe you should feed it to them. Let them know you, a little bit."

"I agree with that, actually," Hannibal nods. "If you're ever away on business, I don't mind caring for them."

"I live an hour away, now," Will reminds him as he plates their food as well as Will's dogs. 

"They'd come here, obviously."

Will stills at that. “They’d come here,” he repeats blandly.

“Of course,” Hannibal says as though it’s obvious. He takes the two bowls of gourmet dog food out to the foyer, and removes the bench that’s blocking them in. The two dogs sniff out towards the dining area, and Hannibal sets their bowls down. Winston looks up at him before he sniffs the bowl, his tail wagging as he scarfs down. Buster is not so hard to win over, and he’s already eating with gusto. “You love them, don’t you?” Hannibal asks as he watches them woof their food down with enthusiasm.

Will touches his shoulder, and Hannibal glances at him with a smile. “I do love them, yeah.”

“Well then I’ll make room for them in my life, Will,” he reasons. Will leans forward and kisses him soundly, and Hannibal smiles against his mouth before pulling away. “Our turn for dinner, now.”

Will helps him by opening a bottle of wine and getting two spotless glasses from the counter while Hannibal plates their food and carries it to the dining room. Will sits to his left, and Hannibal touches his hand gently as he pours them each a glass of wine. 

He waits until Will digs in, a little moan of approval escaping his throat. “The potatoes aren’t ruined at all,” Will sighs. “This is delicious.”

“If only the people at my dinner parties ate with the enthusiasm that you do,” Hannibal chuckles. He spears a slice of potato and dips it into the beef gravy, bringing it primly to his lips. “Mm,” he agrees with a smile. “They’re over-done, but it’s still good.”

Will clears his plate of the tenderest beef he’s ever eaten in record time, and he blushes as a little belch escapes his mouth. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”

“Were you hungry?” Hannibal asks with a smirk.

“I had toast with strawberry jam at nine this morning, so yeah,” he chuckles.

“How’s the house coming along?” he asks, and Will sighs.

“There’s a lot to do, still. The roof was… in very poor condition, so I had to have it replaced. I’ve repaired the electrical and torn out all the walls and insulation that had water damage. I’ve dry-walled and painted the first floor, but I still need to do the second floor. After that, refinish the wood floors, paint the trim, and then I can move in. The two bathrooms are… in really horrible shape, but they’re livable while I save up some money to do them.”

“You’re very handy around the house, then,” he muses.

“Yeah,” Will agrees with a shrug. “My dad… well, he was drunk most of the time. If something around the house needed to be fixed, I’d go to the library and look up how to do it myself. Bob Vila taught me a lot.”

“Who is he?” Hannibal asks with an arched eyebrow as he sips his wine.

Will blushes, “This Old House? It was a show on tv about fixing up really old homes. I think I watched every episode.”

“You’ll forgive me,” Hannibal smiles. “I’ve only lived here for the last eight years or so. Almost nine, now.”

“Where did you live before that?” 

“Italy,” Hannibal recalls with a smile. “Before that, France. Before that, Lithuania. I’ve moved a few times in between, but no where long enough to mention.”

“What was France like?” Will asks. “I’ve always wanted to go.”

“It’s beautiful,” Hannibal replies with a shrug. “I was very young when I was there. My Uncle Robertas and My Aunt Murasaki adopted me from the orphanage after my parents died.”

“Were they… kind to you?” 

“My aunt was,” Hannibal recalls with a little grimace. “My uncle was not. He was a stern man. Sterner even than my father, and that’s saying something.”

“I know I don’t have any aunts or uncles on my father’s side,” Will replies. “I don’t know if my mom had any brothers or sisters.”

“You’ve never thought to look?” Hannibal wonders and Will shakes his head.

“I don’t really have any desire to search out people who’ve never cared to know me.”

“I didn’t really know my aunt or uncle either,” Hannibal concedes. “In a way, it might have been better had I not met them. The orphanage was… difficult. After what happened to Mischa, I was mute for almost a year. The other children were cruel, but I learned how to manage them after a time.”

Will wants to ask what happened to his sister, but he knew that Hannibal would tell him when he was ready. He wouldn’t push for more than he was willing to offer. “You’ve been through more than anyone I’ve ever met,” Will whispers. “And you’re so…”

Hannibal quirks his eyebrow as Will falters. “Complex? Inaccessible?” Hannibal offers.

Will laughs. “I was going to say perfect, but… I thought it might sound trite.”

“I don’t think it sounds trite,” Hannibal chuckles. “I think it says more about you that you think it’s normal that I have as many barriers between myself and others as I do.”

“Because that _is_ normal for me,” he reasons. “And you have your excuses for why you are the way you are.”

“I don’t believe that,” Hannibal replies. “Nothing happened to me, Will. I happened to me.”

Will sips his wine as he nods his head. “Then I could say the same thing about myself.” Hannibal tips his head in agreement at that, a small, pleased, smile quirking his mouth. “Has anyone that you know heard about Molly? About me?”

Hannibal shakes his head. “Not yet. They will, though. Unless by some miracle this whole complaint is resolved.”

“I’m-”

“If you are going to apologize again, I’m going to throw you from the window,” Hannibal chuckles.

Will laughs. “A perfect evening ending in defenestration. What a night. You want to take my dogs for a walk with me? They probably need to go out.”

“Of course,” Hannibal grins. “Let’s soak our plates and then we can go.”

Will helps him clean up the kitchen, and Hannibal gets the leftovers in glass containers while Will loads the dishwasher. Will goes to the dogs and gets their leashes on, while Hannibal shrugs on a coat. His eyebrow raises as Will hands him the leash to Buster, and Will laughs. “It’ll be good for them to get to know you. We’ll switch on the walk back.”

Buster hops merrily around Hannibal’s feet, looking up at him like he hung the stars. “It doesn’t seem I need to win Buster over,” he says drolly.

Will laughs as he shrugs on his own coat and they step out the door. “Buster is more easy going. He’s also more of a terror.”

They walk down the darkened, quiet, street while the dogs sniff around and wander from one side of the sidewalk to the other. “Molly let you keep them?” Hannibal asks.

“These two were mine from before I met her two years ago,” Will replies. “We’ve adopted three since, but it was all her signatures on the papers because she works there. I have no legal right to the others.”

“I could hire someone to fight that for you, if you wished,” Hannibal offers, and Will shakes his head.

“They’re in a home with someone who’ll take care of them,” Will says softly. “That’s all I wanted for them, really.”

“There will be others that need you,” Hannibal points out while Buster pees on a tuft of grass to the side of the curb. 

“There will, but I think two is enough for right now. I want to settle out in my new job, get the house livable. I’ll be busy enough.”

They walk for a bit, and Winston pees on the side of the curb eventually. They switch leashes for the walk back to the house, and Winston almost glares up at Hannibal for walking him. “Winston seems wary of me.”

“I don’t really know his story,” Will replies. “I found him walking along the side of the highway. He might’ve been dumped off, people do that. He was… sketchy of me in the beginning, too. He wasn’t well treated by whoever had him before, and you need to earn his trust. Once you have it, though, he’s ridiculously loyal. He’s very well trained, too. He won’t go on furniture or eat shoes. He’s never relieved himself in the house. Buster, well, he does what he wants.”

Winston sniffs around Hannibal’s shoes, and he leans forward, offering him the back of his hand to sniff. Winston does so cautiously, ears flat and tail tucked tight against his body. “It’s alright, Winston,” Hannibal soothes, and Winston’s tail cautiously wags. Not quite friends but heading in the right direction.

“Do you like dogs?” Will asks, and he’s smiling as he watches Hannibal try to bond with his pets without realizing it.

“I like all animals,” he says while petting Winston behind his ear. “They’re much more honest than people. My sister and I had an array of animals at the manor. She loved her kittens, but their main purpose was to eat mice around the property. My father had dogs, their main purpose was to wrangle the few sheep we had. I liked all of them. Each of them had their own personalities.”

They go up the stairs to his landing, and Hannibal opens his door to let them into the house. They don’t wander far, instead choosing to sniff around the landing and entrance to the dining area. “I should be going,” Will sighs. “It’s late, and you probably have an early morning tomorrow.”

“You never gave me your lecture,” Hannibal smiles. “I promised I would listen, and I’d like to hear it.”

Will blushes and nods, snatching up his laptop after they take off their coats. 

Jack has sent him an outline of his syllabus, detailing cases that he wants used as examples. There’s a textbook Will used to outline the goal of each class, and he used them to mold the cases to fit each lecture. 

Hannibal listens as he goes over the case for the Marlow’s, a family that was shot and killed with precision accuracy. No clear motive aside from the desire to kill and maim. The killer demonstrates that this is not an impulse killing by tapping into the phone lines to record Mrs. Marlow on the phone with the security company weeks before, recording her speaking in order to disarm the alarm when he returns.

The point of the lecture is to incite the future agents to consider motive, and to realize that in their line of work, there wouldn’t always be one. Sometimes people kill because they want to, and for no other reason than that. Will believes this particular killer is new, and that he would evolve. He hopes to get a few responses like that from the students without pointing it out so blatantly.

Hannibal looks impressed as he finishes his lecture, smiling softly from where he sits in his armchair in the study. 

Will clicks his PowerPoint off, turning to Hannibal with a nervous expression. “Well?”

“You want them to realize that there may not be a clear motive. You want them to consider the evidence, and to me, this looks like our dear killer is evolving. This isn’t his first or his last, and the other kills he’s engaged in won’t look anything like this.”

“Yes!” Will grins. “Yeah, exactly. It’s not… obvious, is it? I want them to think about it.”

Hannibal shakes his head. “It’s obvious to me because I’ve worked with the FBI for a few years. It won’t be obvious to them. It’s excellent, Will.”

“I’m not done with the whole syllabus,” Will shrugs. “I’m still making my PowerPoints, but this will be the gist of them. I want them to think. I won’t be giving out the answers that they need to get to themselves. Are the photos I’ve used too graphic?”

“If they are, then that adds to the realism. They need to know what they’ll see in the field. It’s a kindness to get them ready for it.”

Will nods as he packs up his laptop, turning to Hannibal with a shy smile. “You’re not just saying nice things because it’s me, are you?”

“You’ll find I’m not one for prosaic compliments,” Hannibal chuckles. 

Will wanders over to him, settling a knee on one side of his hip so he could lean in for a kiss. Hannibal gives one eagerly, lacing his fingers in Will’s curls while opening up to deepen the kiss. Will smiles against his mouth, trailing his fingers down his throat. 

Hannibal pulls away eventually, and Will presses another kiss to his temple before standing up. “I should be going,” he says again. “Thank you for tonight.”

Will writes down his new address on a notepad on Hannibal’s desk. “This is my new address,” he explains as Hannibal walks over to the desk. “I’ll be there during the day for the next three or four days. After that, I’ll have to do my renovations on the weekends. You can call or stop by whenever. I really look forward to you seeing it.” Will reaches into his pocket for his keychain, removing an extra key from the ring and placing it on the desk. “It’s the house key,” he offers with a bright blush on his cheeks. “Just in case you need to get to my dogs if I’m called away.”

“A key to your home,” Hannibal smiles, touching the brass with a reverent, long, finger. “Are we ready for that, yet?”

“You offered to watch my dogs sometimes,” Will mumbles. “It won’t do me any good if you can’t get to them.”

“I’m teasing you, darling,” Hannibal chuckles. He leans forward and captures Will’s mouth, kissing him gently. “I know why you’re giving me this. I just wanted you to blush so beautifully.”

“Jerk,” Will laughs, and Hannibal kisses him again. 

“Rude,” Hannibal counters as he kisses Will again. He walks Will to the door and leashes Buster while Will leashes Winston. Hannibal helps him into his coat, grabbing onto the collar to drag him in for a heated kiss. Will moans into it, gripping his waist as their kiss deepens. Will didn’t want to leave, but he wouldn’t be clingy. This was still very new, and they’d need their space.

Hannibal pulls away with a flushed face, pressing damp kisses to his throat. “I want to drag you back to my bed, Will,” he sighs.

“I want that, too,” Will chuckles. “We need our space, though. I don’t want you to get sick of me.”

“I don’t think you need to concern yourself too much with that,” he breathes against Will’s throat. “But I’ll humor you.”

Hannibal walks him to the door and kisses him one more time before Will heads back to his temporary home.


	8. Chapter 8

He’s sleeping on his air mattress that night when his phone rings, startling him awake. He fumbles for it, answering with a groggy, “H’lo?”

“Will Graham?” A stern voice asks.

“S’me,” he grits out, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“It’s Jack Crawford,” the voice says. “Listen, I know you don’t start till Monday, but we have what might be another Ripper killing. One of the kills you think happens between his… sounders? That’s what you call them?”

“Yeah,” Will says as he sits up in bed, his heart hammering in his throat. 

“I’d like you to come out to the scene. You can say no, but I’d like you to.”

Will nods, then realizes he can’t see that. “Yes, of course.”

“Thank you for that, I’ll text you the address. It’s in a field, just follow the flashing lights.”

“See you soon, Jack.”

Will hangs up as he gets dressed quickly, washing his face to lessen the puffiness around his eyes. The text comes in, and he sets it on the navigation on his phone. He puts his dogs out quickly before taking off. 

The road that leads to the victim is dirt, and it’s bumpy as fuck for his old Volvo. He pulls up as closely as he can before walking the rest of the way. 

An officer stops him at the tape, and Jack waves him over. “Will,” Jack greets him curtly. “I want to introduce you to the team.”

He walks him over to the body, and Will’s mouth falls open at the brutality of it. It looks like an animal attack, the scene is so bloody and gory. 

“Beverly Katz,” the woman greets, extending a hand that Will shakes. “You can call me Bev.”

“Will Graham,” he says, averting his eyes from her intense focus. 

“These two are Brian Zeller,” the man waves in greeting, “and Jimmy Price.”

Jimmy smiles widely, extending a hand. “Jack is pretty pleased to have you on board, nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Will says absently. His focus is mostly on the mangled body in front of him, but he assumes that sights like this are not as shocking for the rest of them anymore.

Will walks around the body carefully, taking in the flayed open chest and abdomen. The way the entrails have been ripped out unceremoniously. There’s still an art to it, though. The organs that were left behind are pulled out on either side equally, demonstrating symmetry that Will finds… disturbing. Will glances around to note that they’re in the middle of nowhere. No landmarks, really. The victim was brought here to be dismembered.

“Who found him?” Will asks, turning to Jack.

“Couple of high school kids that came out here to get high,” Jack replies. 

“The body has been here for… what? Two days?” Will asks. The smell alone makes Will certain it’s been at least that long.

“I’d guess two nights ago,” Jimmy offers. “Based on decomp and the state of rigor mortis.”

“It’s him,” Will replies. “Do you see the symmetry in the way the organs were splayed out?”

Jack nods as he stares at the body. “That’s on purpose?”

Will shakes his head. “I don’t know that it is. Our killer might have a little bit of OCD. He likes the way even symmetry looks. All of his kills demonstrate a little bit of it. What organs are missing?”

“No organs,” Zeller responds. 

“But he cut out a big chunk of his back and shoulder,” Price says with a shake of his head. “His mementos are... strange.”

Will agrees whole-heartedly with that. “He was brought here alive. It rained last night, so tire tracks are moot.”

“You think that was on purpose?” Jack wonders.

“He’s very organized,” Will replies. “It was likely a factor. Do we know who the victim is, yet?”

“No,” Jack replies.

“He’ll be in a customer service field. Very likely somewhere higher end. It’s where he meets them. This man was rude, somehow. He gutted him like a pig for it.”

Jack stares down at the body with a frown. “What else can you tell us?”

Will shakes his head. “You won’t find evidence on the body. He’s very careful. You might find a sedative in his bloodstream, though.”

Jack nods as Will walks around the body. “He used multiple knives,” Will notes. Some of the skin is flayed precisely, while some has a jagged, rough, edge to it. 

“Yep,” Jimmy muses. “Our boy has an arsenal of knives.”

“Why switch out?” Brian wonders.

“He likes the… variation,” Will supplies with a wry twist of his mouth. “He likes the easy cuts as much as the sawing ones.”

“Jesus,” Brian sighs. “Was he alive for all of it?”

Will blanches. “Very likely, yes. He doesn’t like to work with a dead canvas.”

Will sticks around for a little bit before Jack walks him back to his car. “I feel like I wasn’t helpful,” Will says softly.

“Ripper cases are difficult, and no one has been very helpful regarding him. This was more for me, Will. I wanted to see what you could decipher from it. I’m not disappointed.”

Will nods, glancing away towards the tape around the scene. He notices Freddie Lounds scowling at him, and he averts his eyes. “Sorry I couldn’t offer more insight.”

“It’s fine, Will,” Jack sighs. “Thank you for coming out.”

Will nods as he climbs back into his car and heads back to his office.

He doesn’t sleep for the rest of the night.

Freddie Lounds comes to his office the next morning, just as Will is finally about to get some sleep. She barges in, her face flaming. “You consult for the FBI, now?”

Will shrugs. “I’ll be teaching at the academy and consulting as needed.”

“So you can’t offer me insights anymore, is what you’re saying?”

“Sorry,” he offers blandly, “but no.”

He watches her hawkish eyes take in his surroundings, noting the two dogs sniffing around her feet. “You’re living here, now?”

“I bought a house,” Will sighs. “It’s a fixer-upper, so yeah. Until it’s livable, I’ll be here.”

“Congrats on the house,” she says in a bored tone. “I guess I’ll go fuck myself for my future articles?”

“Freddie,” he sighs as he wanders over to his coffee maker. “You don’t need me to explain away the scenes for you. You know that.”

Freddie shrugs at that, tossing her red hair over her shoulder. “I guess not. Shit, Graham. You’ll be good, there. I’m just…”

“I know,” Will offers. “Coffee?”

“No thanks,” she replies as she gathers up her bags. “I’ve got an article to write.”

“Always a pleasure,” he says with a chuckle.

“Oh, fuck off,” she shoots back with a laugh. She turns to him while biting her lip. “Good luck, Will. Don’t get lost in all the… violence you’ll see. And get some sleep. You look like dog shit.”

“Thanks,” he says brightly. “I’ll do my best.”

She nods as she leaves, and he sighs as he realizes he’s already lost in all the violence that he’s seen.

He decides he’s not going to head to his house to work on it, as he’s too tired to even move. He shoots a quick text to Hannibal to let him know just in case he wanted to stop by.

He’s just drifting off again when his phone rings, and he groans as he answers the phone. “Hello?”

“Hello, am I speaking with Will Graham?” A female voice asks.

“Yes,” he replies. “Who’s this?”

“Hi, I am Olivia Gould. I’m an attorney for the American Psychiatric Association. How are you?”

“Good,” he says absently as he sits up on the bed. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m calling about a complaint raised against Doctor Hannibal Lecter, by a Ms. Molly Foster. Are you already aware of this complaint?”

“No,” Will lies through his teeth. “She and I broke up. She took it very hard. I haven’t spoken to her in a few weeks.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she replies, and he knows she isn’t sorry in the least. “She raised concerns regarding the care you received from Dr. Lecter. She said that he’s engaged in ethical misconduct with you, specifically a sexual encounter.”

“Molly found out that I’m bisexual,” he replies as blandly as he can. “She blames Dr. Lecter for it, and there’s no reason for it. Nothing has happened between Dr. Lecter and I.”

“She claims that he’s engaged in sexual misconduct with you, Mr. Graham. It’s a very serious allegation for him.”

“I’m sure it is,” Will replies. “But nothing has happened between he and I. He’s been a good psychologist. I feel… terrible that Molly is doing this to him, when it’s just her jealousy that’s motivating her to do it.”

“So, your official statement is that Dr. Lecter has maintained professional boundaries, and he’s never made advances towards you while under his care?”

“That’s what I’m saying, yes,” Will replies. “Molly needs help. She needs to manage her jealousy in a way that doesn’t tear down the lives of everyone around her. Nothing sexual ever happened between he and I during our sessions. Not once.”

“Without a substantiation of her story from you, we cannot move forward in the complaint against Dr. Lecter. Do you understand that?”

“Of course, I do,” Will replies bitterly. “He’s good at what he does, and it’s not fair that Molly would do this to someone who was genuinely helping me. I understand completely why it’s a serious allegation. I also need you to understand that it’s baseless.”

“I understand, Mr. Graham. Thank you for your time, and I apologize for suggesting that you might have engaged in misconduct with your psychiatrist. I know the subject is… difficult.”

“It’s not, though,” Will argues. “Molly… she’s angry at him because he couldn’t save our relationship. It was too far gone to save. It doesn’t reflect on him, and it’s not because of him. It’s because of her.”

“To be clear, with your statement, all investigation in the matter will be dropped. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” Will replies in relief. “I understand completely.”

“Take care, Mr. Graham. If you’d like to amend your statement, I’d like to give you a phone number where you can reach me.”

“That’s not necessary,” Will replies. “Nothing has happened between he and I, and the statement won’t change.”

“Very well,” she says with a sigh. “Have a good day.”

“Bye,” he says bluntly as he ends the call.

His nerves are fried as he gets off the phone, gripping it tightly in his hand. He hopes that he’s said enough. He hopes that he’s managed to salvage the situation. He’s already looked into it, and nothing can be done if they find out he’s seeing Hannibal now that Will isn’t a patient anymore. It’s frowned upon, but it’s not something that would cost him his career. 

He settles out against the mattress again, thumbing down through his contacts. He hits call, even though he’s sure Hannibal is working. It gets sent straight to voicemail, and he sighs. “Hey, it’s me. I got a call today from the APA. I denied all of it, and without my statement, they have nothing to go on. I hope I cleared this up, for you. It would be the least I could do. Talk to you soon.”

He hangs up, and with nothing to do, sleep finds him eventually.

He’s woken up several hours later to someone knocking on the glass door, and Will gets up stiffly, smiling when he sees who it is. 

Hannibal greets him with a little smile, and Will unlocks the door to let him in. “Hi,” Will says while wiping the sleep from his face. “Sorry, I was called out to a crime scene, last night. Didn’t sleep well.” Hannibal leans forward to kiss him, and Will dodges it. “Wait, I haven’t brushed my teeth.”

“Will,” Hannibal sighs as he grips Will’s hip, leaning into him to press their mouths together. “I don’t care about your afternoon breath.”

Will chuckles, tugging at the tee shirt he’s wearing and realizing he’s standing around in his underwear. Hannibal looks delicious in a black sweater and gray slacks, and Will feels silly for looking the way he does. “I bet my hair is nuts,” Will laughs, smoothing down some of the wilder curls. 

Hannibal holds up a bag, “Dinner? It’s just leftovers from last night.”

“It’s perfect,” Will smiles. “Thank you. I’m going to use the bathroom, make yourself at home.”

Hannibal busies himself with getting their dinner out, and Will escapes to relieve himself and wash his face. He brushes his teeth and wets his hair a bit, pulling the sleep-mussed curls back into some semblance of control. He looks exhausted, and the purple hollows under his eyes are not attractive. Nothing he can do about it, though.

When he emerges, Hannibal is plating their dinner, which is steaming from the microwave. “I usually prefer to reheat in an oven, but I’m making do.”

“You don’t even own a microwave,” Will realizes, and Hannibal grins.

“I do not,” he agrees. “You were called to a crime scene last night?”

Will nods and takes his plate from Hannibal’s pro-offered hand. “Yeah, another Ripper victim.”

Hannibal arches an eyebrow, glancing at Will warily. “Your first crime scene. Are you alright?”

Will nods as he settles out on his air mattress, while Hannibal opts for one of his armchairs. “Yeah,” he says cautiously. “The victim had been there for a few days, so it was… not pleasant. Jack just wanted me to get some exposure, I think. I couldn’t offer much for insights. The Ripper isn’t messy. His motive is always the same. He kills those that are rude, nothing more complicated than that.”

“You look exhausted, Will,” Hannibal notes before taking a bite of his dinner. 

Will eats a few bites, shrugging his shoulders. “I got back here after, and I couldn’t sleep. Just as I was about to, Freddie Lounds showed up to bitch me out about not giving her insights into crime scenes anymore. I tried to sleep again, then the attorney for the APA called.” He laughs. “Sleep was not in my cards, today.”

“I didn’t know you were acquainted with Ms. Lounds,” Hannibal replies. “She’s a nuisance.”

“She’s how I saw crime scene photos,” Will admits with a blush. “But she is a nuisance. We get along, mostly.”

“I received a call from Ms. Gould,” Hannibal says suddenly, and Will pauses while bringing a bite of food to his mouth. 

“Oh?”

“It appears Ms. Foster’s claims regarding me are baseless,” Hannibal replies, smiling softly. “Thank you, Will.”

Will lets out a breath, allowing his muscles to relax a bit. “I’m relieved.”

Hannibal pauses, glancing up at Will with a little mar of concern on his forehead. “You could tear down my life if it pleased you. If this doesn’t work out between us…”

Will huffs out a breath. “I would never do that,” he says adamantly. “Hannibal, you know that.”

He nods absently, glancing over to the two dogs that are laid out around the room. “Vulnerability is a new concept, for me. I’ve never given anyone the ability to ruin me if they desired to.”

“If you ended it with me today, I wouldn’t call her back and tell her that we’ve…” Will blushes, glancing down at his plate. “If you decide to leave me down the road, or if it just doesn’t work out, I’d let you go. I’m not so unstable that I’d want you to suffer.”

“I don’t see myself leaving you,” he replies softly. “I’m just… aware of the hand you have over me. It’s unsettling.”

“Well settle yourself,” Will replies tartly. “I’m not interested in hurting you, Hannibal. Not now, not later.”

Hannibal watches him for a few minutes with an unreadable expression on his face before he smiles gently. “You’ve not been to your house today, I take it?”

“No,” Will replies with a sigh. “I was too tired for it.”

Hannibal glances away, biting his lip. “If you go tomorrow, you may run into… a contractor there.”

“What?” Will asks indignantly. “Hannibal, what did you do?”

“A thank you,” he replies with an awkward shrug. “You’ve saved my career and my reputation. It’s the very least I can do.”

“No,” Will argues. “I don’t want that. Call him and tell him thanks but no thanks.”

“Might be too late for that,” Hannibal replies calmly. “Your bathrooms have been gutted today, from what I understand. New flooring and drywall were put up this afternoon. Upstairs, I believe.”

“Hannibal,” Will sighs in annoyance. “Why? Why would you do that.”

“As I’ve said,” Hannibal grins. “A thank you. Also, because I wanted to. The imperious part of me also likes the idea that I’ve given some contribution to your new home. I promise, I won’t get you a thing for a housewarming gift.”

Will laughs, blushing as he turns away. “You’re a pain in the ass.”

“I’m aware,” Hannibal chuckles. “Are you very angry?”

“A little angry,” Will confesses. “Mostly just kind of… shocked. No one’s ever done anything like that for me. You didn’t go nuts, did you? I don’t want gold toilets or a marble jetted tub.”

“The golden toilets were on back-order,” Hannibal replies with a laugh. “It’s all functional, Will.”

Will wiggles uncomfortably on the mattress, the vinyl of it squeaking against the floor. “Thank you, by the way. With the bathrooms done all I have to do is move in… and buy furniture. I’ve left myself a little budget for a bedroom set and a couch.”

“I have an old dining table in storage,” Hannibal offers. “A table and six chairs. It’s a cherry maple set, but it needs refinishing. You can have it if you don’t mind doing the work to fix it up.”

Will sighs, “I can’t… I cannot take anything else from you, Hannibal.”

Hannibal shrugs. “I kept my old furniture from my first apartment in the states. They were good pieces, merely not functional in my new home. They’ve been in storage for three years, and I won’t be using them again. I’d prefer it if you got some use of them. You could go shopping in my unit, Will. You could pay me for it if it makes you feel more at ease.”

“I’ll pay you for it, then,” Will agrees awkwardly. “I don’t do well with handouts, and I really don’t want you… doting on me.”

Hannibal chuckles as he stands to take their plates. “Your reactions are so wonderfully endearing. If you don’t want me doting on you, then perhaps you should react in a less appealing way.”

“Put the plates in the sink and join me on this air mattress, please,” Will laughs.

Hannibal soaks the plates and the containers he brought in his small sink before shucking his shoes and wiggling up the mattress. “I wish I would have had something like this in the orphanage,” Hannibal muses. “I usually ended up on the floor when I’d get bullied out of my bed.”

Will wiggles over so he can lay by his side before dragging himself against his chest. “They’re alright. I think I might sleep better on the floor, sometimes. Air gets out, somehow. You end up kind of… sagging.”

Will rolls over him, straddling his waist. Hannibal’s smiling as he looks up at Will, who leans over his chest to kiss him. “You smell like death, Will.”

“The victim was in decomposition. Two days in the rain,” Will shivers. “You can smell it on me? Shit, I’m sorry. I have nowhere to shower, yet.”

“As of tomorrow, you will,” Hannibal grins. 

“Impossible man,” Will laughs. “I’m going to close the blinds, but I want you naked when I come back.”

“Demanding creature,” he laughs. 

Will wiggles off the bed and heads over to the door to drop the blinds, then the windows. When he walks back over, he shucks his tee shirt and smiles as he watches Hannibal struggle out of his pants on the bed. “I tried to be quick about it,” he laughs. “The mattress is sucking me in.”

“Told you,” Will chuckles. He tugs Hannibal’s pants off while Hannibal yanks his red sweater over his head. He’s glorious on Will’s cheap gray sheets, his long legs dangling from the end of the bed. “God, you’re beautiful. Underwear too, gorgeous.”

Hannibal arches an eyebrow as he shucks his underwear, and Will drops his boxers as he crawls back on top of him. “You’re a vision,” Hannibal breathes out while his palms drag up his abdomen, then his chest. “How anyone could think of anybody else while you’re over them like this… it’s beyond me.”

Will leans over him to kiss him, and their cocks stiffen as they drag against one another. “People don’t in the beginning,” Will replies with a frown while Hannibal trails kisses down his throat. “It’s not till later that they… lose interest. God, that feels good.”

Hannibal is working a nipple in his free hand while his mouth suckles at the spot behind his ear, and Will shifts against him, drawing a little moan from the gorgeous man under him. “You worry that I’ll be like the rest of them?” Hannibal wonders while wrapping his fingers around the both of them, stroking them gently. “Do you believe me to be a fickle man?”

Will rolls his hips into his palm, sighing at how good it feels. “It’s not… ugh, fuck. It’s not about being fickle. It’s about what always happens once there’s… familiarity. I wish I had lube here, but I don’t.”

“I suppose time will tell, then,” Hannibal grins while rolling them over. He nibbles at Will’s throat, nipping little bruises down his chest, then his stomach. “Delicious man,” he sighs, licking a broad stripe up Will’s cock. 

Will bucks up into the heat of it, moaning in his throat. Hannibal doesn’t tease him, though. He sinks over his cock and flicks his tongue against the head, rolling his balls in his large hand. Will watches him while pleasure courses through him, his nerve endings sparking and lighting up with each strike of his tongue against him. He’s really good at this, and Will wonders just how many others have come before him.

More unsettling, how many will come after him. Hannibal notices the little mar of his mouth, and he pulls away with a gentle kiss to his shaft. “What’s wrong?”

“What you said before… that relationships that start the way that ours did don’t usually end well…” he trails off with a sigh. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Hannibal kisses his abdomen softly, and his dark hair falls enticingly over his forehead. His eyes are so dark in the dim light of the room, and Will aches for him. “There are things about me… things you don’t know. When you learn them, you might change your mind about that.”

“Your past doesn’t frighten me, Hannibal.”

Hannibal licks his lips and glances away, but his palm continues stroking the muscle in his lower stomach. “I don’t want to lose you either,” he confesses, and it feels like that might be an enormous revelation for the private man to make. Will touches his cheekbone, and Hannibal’s eyes slide back up to his. 

“Come back up here, please,” Will pleads.

Hannibal slinks between his thighs, sliding up his body while his tongue trails a wet swipe up his chest. Their mouths slant together while Will feels the rolling muscles of his back. Will pulls away enough to free his mouth, and he gasps as Hannibal shifts over him. “On your stomach,” Will breathes out, and Hannibal chuckles as he slides off Will, resting his face against the pillows as he stretches out on the tiny mattress. 

Will wiggles behind him, sighing at all the strong muscles in his shoulders and his back. The expanse of golden, soft, skin motivates Will, and he leans over his long back, pressing kisses to his shoulder blades, the curve of his spine. His skin is ridiculously smooth, and Will runs his tongue along it, tasting the clean salt of his skin. He trails his tongue lower, flicking it gently against the cleft of his ass. Hannibal moans as he shifts his legs up the bed, and the view Will gets for it makes him throb hard enough that he has to give his cock a few relieving tugs at the sight. 

Will bites at his ass cheek, running his palms up his spine and down his hips. He slides his mouth over, flicking his tongue gently against the tight ring of muscle that’s spread so deliciously in front of him. Hannibal moans under him, and Will grins as he licks in. The muscle flutters against the flat of Will’s tongue, so Will points his tongue and traces the rim of it, and he feels Hannibal’s thighs quiver against him. He molds his mouth around his entrance, fucking into his body with his tongue while his hand reaches between his legs to stroke the hard cock that’s leaking against his mattress. 

Hannibal arches against his mouth, and the guttural moan that comes from his throat makes Will thrust into the open air. He ignores his own needs for the moment, choosing instead to rub at Hannibal’s perineum with his thumb while his fingers press against his entrance. His tongue continues its assault, and he’s dripping with Will’s saliva enough that sliding a finger in becomes no problem. 

It’s been forever since Will’s been with another man, but he quirks his finger inside of him and finds the spot with no trouble. Hannibal bucks into him, then into his fist that continues stroking him, and Will’s picking up a mind-numbing amount of pleasure rolling off him. His guard is down, and Will feels him. It’s not just that he’s experiencing pleasure, but that it’s Will doing it to him. Will feels… heavy affection coming from him. 

Will might call it love if he knew better.

It was too soon for that. Will focuses back to what he’s doing, the fog of lust and pleasure settling over him like a blanket. Will eases another finger into him, and he can press against the little bundle of nerves inside of him much better, now. He licks at his rim while his fingers rub at the spot inside. His other hand keeps stroking him, and Hannibal is a sweating, writhing, mess.

It’s a heady feeling to make such an elegant man look so debauched. Will’s own cock throbs at the thought alone.

“Will,” he gasps while his hands claw at the bedsheets. “Fuck, Will,” he’s chanting Will’s name like a prayer, and Will smiles against his ass, biting the firm flesh of it because it’s all he can think about doing.

He flutters his fingers against the spot inside, and a slew of words spill from Hannibal’s mouth, but not in English. The only words he’s picking up are his own name and the occasional swear, and Hannibal rolls his hips as he moans into the pillow. His cock jerks in Will’s palm as he comes, and Will eases his fingers out but continues jerking him until he’s finished. Hannibal collapses to the bed, sweating and panting, and Will crawls up his back, pressing kisses to his spine.

“Are you alright, Doctor Lecter?” Will chuckles, and Hannibal groans. 

“You’ve never done that before?” he gasps, his eyebrow arched in disbelief. “I don’t believe you.”

Will laughs as he presses kisses to his sweaty temple, smoothing his dark hair from his forehead. “I wanted you to feel even a bit of what you make me feel. I wanted you just like this. Sweaty. Debauched. Beautiful.”

Hannibal smiles against the pillow, his eyes fluttering shut. “I want to take care of you, I just need a moment.”

“You don’t need to,” Will assures him, and his response motivates Hannibal to sit up. 

“I’ve been thinking about the taste of you on my tongue since last night,” Hannibal admits as he crawls over Will’s thighs. “I want it, Will. It’s not about what you need.”

Will jerks his hips up at that, and he moans as Hannibal swallows him down his throat. His clever tongue flicks at his head, his strong hands jerk the base of his cock expertly, and his lovely mouth works him so quickly that Will is gasping as he claws at the bed, then Hannibal’s hair. He feels a gentle scrape of teeth, a warning, before he’s swallowed down again. It’s the most aggressively hot blow job he’s ever had, and Will doesn’t know what the fuck to do with his hands.

He grips the base of Hannibal’s neck, not urging him, but encouraging him to do as he pleases. He’s already so turned on that it doesn’t take much before he’s spilling down his throat, a high, keening moan echoing through his office as he pumps into that delicious mouth.

Will’s thighs are shaking as Hannibal slinks back up his chest, kissing him deeply enough that Will can taste himself on his tongue. Will sucks his tongue lewdly in response, and Hannibal grins as he pulls away. He trails kisses up Will’s cheek, to his hairline where he takes a greedy nose-full of his scent. “Your scent when you’re aroused,” he sighs. “It’s like the scent after a rainstorm. Pure. Clean. I could drown in it.”

“My scent when I’m aroused?” Will chuckles. “You can smell it?”

“I have… a very keen sense of smell. All the times you were… interested in my office. I knew, Will. I could smell it on you.”

Will blushes scarlet, and he glares up at Hannibal who looks far too amused. “You have your own tells too, Dr. Lecter. You cross those long legs of yours. One to the other, then back. I knew, too.”

Hannibal pauses at that, glancing down at him with a little quirk of his mouth. “You’re insightful, aren’t you? I thought you couldn’t read me as well as others.”

“I can’t, usually,” Will replies. “But everyone has physical tells for certain things. I can read them like a book.”

“Unnerving,” he replies with a chuckle. 

“Yeah?” Will laughs, leaning up to press a kiss to his swollen mouth. “You, smelling my arousal is unnerving, too. What else can you smell on me? Now I’m curious.”

“Your bar soap,” Hannibal says immediately while his nose works down Will’s jaw. “The cheap aftershave you insist on using. A corpse. Woods. Damp Earth. The vinyl of this mattress, though I don’t think it’s on your skin, I’m just… smelling it. Me, from last night.”

“Jesus,” Will laughs. “You’re a bloodhound.”

“You’ve no idea,” Hannibal replies as he settles against the mattress. “I want to stay here tonight, but I need to shower before work.”

“I’d say I would come back to your house with you, but I need to feed the dogs. Take them for a little walk.” He hears their dog tags jingle upon hearing that word and he laughs.

“I should go, then,” Hannibal sighs reluctantly. “I look forward to you having a shower. And a real bed.”

“Me too, darlin,” he chuckles.

Hannibal left shortly afterwards, and Will busies himself with doing dishes, taking the dogs for their walk, and washing up in his small bathroom sink. His sheets are stained with come and sweat, and he’d need to take a trip to a laundry mat tomorrow. A washer and dryer, he sighs. Another thing he’ll need to buy for the house.


	9. Chapter 9

He heads to his house late the next morning, after leaving a laundry mat with several loads of laundry. When he pulls up the long driveway, he scowls at several trucks parked along its path, wondering what the hell Hannibal did.

He ties the dogs to the front porch and heads inside where he hears the sounds of construction and men talking. There’s a man in his kitchen rolling a new refrigerator into its spot. There’s a gleaming, stainless, stove already in the spot formerly occupied by the old one, and Will scowls at the man. “What is this?”

“Delivery for Graham?” the man asks in a worried tone. “I hope to God I’m at the right address.”

Will blushes, but nods. “Yeah, uh. I forgot I ordered a fridge and oven. Sorry.”

Hannibal. Hannibal was being murdered, later. It was a shame, really, because Will was getting attached to him. The stove was just a Frigidaire, stainless, but not very expensive. Gas burning, at least. 

The fridge was mostly exactly what he would pick for himself, also Frigidaire. Stainless, too, but not crazy looking like Hannibal’s fridge was. “I installed your washer and dryer in the basement,” the man says, and Will glares at him. “I wasn’t sure what side you wanted the dryer door to open, so I picked the left. I can change it if you want it to open on the right.”

“That’s fine, thank you.” Hannibal was dead. Dead. Dead.

There are guys all over his fucking house. He can hear a floor sander, and he’s watching two guys carry in a pretty, navy blue bathroom vanity. He did more than he said he did, and Will’s hackles are rising. 

One of the other guys that works for the construction company comes over to him, wiping sweat from his brow. “Everything will be done by tonight, but you might want to wait to come back until tomorrow night, maybe even Saturday morning. The varnish on the floors will take about 24 hours to dry.”

Will nods dumbly, “Sure, yeah. I’ll just… I’ll get out of your way, then.”

“If you want to pick a paint color for the bedroom first?” the guy asks while handing off a keyring with color samples attached to it. 

Will shakes his head. “The guy who set up the appointment, did he have a preference?”

The man shifts his feet. “He said a muted blue for the bedroom, that’s all.”

Will debates asking for a hot fucking pink bedroom just to be spiteful but decides against it. He’d have to look at it more than Hannibal would. “Sounds good to me, thank you.”

He leaves the house, walking to the porch to collect his dogs in a haze. He doesn’t realize he’s heading back to Baltimore until he’s walking into Hannibal’s office, his fists clenched and his jaw so tight he might crack a tooth.

He waits in the waiting area with an older couple who are bickering about the husband having an affair, and Will rolls his eyes at the tension in the room with him. He’s already tense enough, he doesn’t need their tension, too. 

Hannibal opens the door sometime later, and he pauses as he looks at Will, then his face. “Will,” he breathes out uncomfortably. “What are you doing here?”

“I had to talk to you. I can wait, I have all day, now,” he says bitterly. 

Hannibal’s mouth flaps for a minute, and he looks to the couple. “Would you be willing to give me a few minutes? I can run our appointment past time if that’s agreeable?”

The older couple looks between Hannibal and Will, but nods. 

Will breezes in, and Hannibal shuts the door behind him. “Will, you can’t come to my work. It’s not-”

“Appropriate?” Will spits. “You fucking gutted my house, Hannibal. I got there today, and I have a new fridge, stove, washer, dryer, and two new bathrooms. You’re sanding and varnishing my floors and painting the bedrooms. Why? What do you want from me?”

Hannibal pauses at that, walking into Will’s space. Will flinches, stepping away. “I want you to move into your new home and feel like it’s yours. It’s complete. The bathrooms were full of mold, my contractor informed me. I couldn’t bear the thought of you bathing and washing in a room like that. I want… I want you to be happy.”

Will deflates at that, his shoulders slumping miserably. “You must have spent more than I have on my car. More than I did to put in a new roof. Hannibal, I don’t like that.”

“I’m seeing that,” Hannibal sighs. “I’m… sorry. I should have consulted with you, first. I’ve never… placed someone else’s needs alongside my own, before. I find myself oddly protective of you. I have the means to make you comfortable, and I used them without talking to you, first. I apologize.”

Will is picking up the tiny bit of anxiety rolling off of him. He’s worried he’s gone too far and ruined this, somehow. Will sighs and closes the distance between them to press a kiss to his mouth. “I’m not… mad. Well, not anymore, anyway.”

Hannibal hums, pressing another kiss to his jawline. “I’m relieved to hear that.”

“I’m sorry I came here. I know it’s… risky, right now. I wasn’t thinking.”

“You’re beautiful when you’re angry and self-righteous. It was good to see you, Will.”

Will smiles softly, closing his eyes as Hannibal’s lips descend down the column of his throat. “I have nowhere to fucking shower, though. The varnish on the floors won’t be dry till tomorrow night, which means I haven’t showered in three days.”

Hannibal walks over to his desk and removes his keys from the top drawer, removing a key from the ring and handing it off. “Go shower at my house, then.”

Will hesitates at that, holding the key as though it were a loaded gun. “I have my dogs with me.”

“I’ve already told you I don’t mind them in my house,” he replies. “Go. Shower. It’ll be nice to come home to you, I think. My last appointment is at four. I’ll be home in two hours or so.”

Will leans up and kisses him again, and Hannibal smiles against his mouth. He walks Will out to the exit door, and Will turns to him before he leaves. “Thank you, Hannibal.”

“You’re most welcome, beloved.”

The endearment stalls Will out, but Hannibal closes the door and Will forces his legs to move. Beloved.

Beloved.

It’s like a chorus in his head as he drives to Hannibal’s house. Not darling. Not sweetheart.

Beloved.

Maybe it means something else in Lithuanian? Maybe… maybe it was said absently. Maybe he meant it in the way that he means darling. Maybe Will was being crazy. Because beloved, to Will, means loved one.

He swallows hard as he takes the dogs for a brief walk before heading into the house. Hannibal’s house.

Where he was going to wait like a housewife for him to come home from work.

His hands are shaking by the time the dogs pee and he unlocks the door. 

It’s… weird being here without Hannibal. He sets the key in the little bowl to the side of the door and takes off his coat. He lets the dogs go before running back out to his car to dig through his clean clothes for a towel and a clean change of clothes. 

He’s cursing himself when he realizes he doesn’t have bar soap or shampoo, so he’d have to borrow Hannibal’s. Hannibal, who called him beloved.

He heads down the hall to the main floor bathroom, noting how beautiful the room is. It’s all gleaming white marble and dark gray walls, chrome accents and red towels. It’s so perfectly Hannibal that Will finds himself grinning as he gathers up his clothes to put them on the counter. 

There’s a bottle of expensive looking shampoo, and an unopened bar soap on the ledge of the shower. It’s set up like he doesn’t use this bathroom to bathe, and Will feels sort of better about that. It’s less intrusive than barging into his master bathroom, although Will doesn’t think he’d mind if he did.

He strips down and gets the shower going, climbing in with a sigh. He feels completely disgusting, and the bar soap smells incredible. Will washes his hair a few times, scratching the oils from his scalp that have accumulated over the last few days. He’s embarrassed as he considers what Hannibal must smell on him, but he’s been essentially homeless these past few days, and he sighs. 

Once he’s finished, he dries himself down with the towel he brought in, and then wipes down the shower to clean it of any water spots that might happen. The room was spotless when he came in, and he does his best to leave it that way once he’s finished.

He doesn’t have a brush or a razor, so his stubble is what it is, at this point. He runs his fingers through his damp hair, grimacing as he realizes just how curly it’s going to get without anything to tame it. He at least smells incredible now, and his clothes are clean. Small things can make a difference.

He has no idea what to do with himself now that he’s done. He’s dressed in a white tee shirt and jeans, nothing special. He debates making something for Hannibal for dinner but decides against it. His kitchen was his sanctuary, and he doesn’t want to intrude on his space. 

He settles instead on pouring himself a whiskey and heading into the study. The harpsichord gleams from the corner of the room, and Will heads over to it hesitantly. He knows how to play the piano, and he knows the mechanics are the same. He sets his glass down on the stone coaster after taking a sip, settling himself out on the bench. He strikes a few keys, grinning at the sound that comes from them. 

Very old fashioned. He sips his drink as he tries out a few chords, grinning both at the sound, and at how much he still remembers. 

He plays a few songs by Billy Joel, chuckling at how they sound on a harpsichord. Piano Man on a harpsichord is absolutely ridiculous, but he gets into it, humming along with the chords. 

He’s playing and singing absently, so he’s not immediately aware that he’s being watched until a shadow passes by his shoulder. He startles and the notes go sour, and Hannibal chuckles. “Christ, you scared me.”

Hannibal settles out on the bench beside him, nudging his shoulder with his own. “I didn’t know you could play.”

“I don’t know that I can,” Will laughs. “I just like Billy Joel. I know a few classical pieces; Canon in D major, Liebestraum number 3, and a few others.”

“You were singing when I came in,” Hannibal says softly. “Continue, please.”

Will blushes scarlet as he looks up at Hannibal. “I’d… rather not.”

“Please,” Hannibal presses, and his soft hand caresses Will’s thigh as he lilts his voice enticingly. 

Will swallows but plays ‘Honesty’ from the beginning. He sings hesitantly at first, gradually growing comfortable enough that he’s singing as if no one is watching him. As he finishes, he feels the weight of Hannibal’s eyes on the side of his face, and he blushes. 

“I am not familiar with Billy Joel’s work,” Hannibal says softly. “But I’m interested, now. That was beautiful, Will.”

“I’ve always related to that song,” Will replies quietly. “People usually say one thing but mean another. It’s very rare when their feelings and words match up.”

“Because of your gift,” Hannibal muses. “I hope my feelings and words aren’t conflicting.”

“They’re not,” Will smiles softly. “You’re… not an open book. But what you say and what you do match up.”

Hannibal leans forward and presses a kiss to his cheek, inhaling against his skin softly. “You smell like my house, my soap,” he sighs. “I love that, Will.”

“Possessive,” Will chuckles as he turns his head to kiss him more fully. 

“You’ve no idea,” Hannibal says between kisses. “Coming home to you to find you doing this. I didn’t imagine it. You constantly surprise me.”

“I wanted to start dinner, but I decided it was too… forward to invade your sanctuary like that,” Will confesses.

“You could have,” Hannibal chuckles. “It would have surprised me just as much as finding you in here did.”

“When I’m settled in my house, I’ll cook for you. After I catch some fish at the stream, obviously.”

“His songs are written for the piano, I imagine,” Hannibal says, glancing back to the harpsichord.

“Yeah,” Will nods. “This… feels and sounds much differently. I had an old keyboard. I think it was my mother’s, but I don’t remember her playing it. My dad never did. At least not around me. It was the only thing that came with me from house to house when we’d move. I’d beg him to let me take it with me.”

“Did you have a piano or a keyboard in Molly’s house?” Hannibal wonders.

Will shakes his head. “I haven’t played in years. This was… nice.” Hannibal looks thoughtful, and Will leans in to kiss his cheek. “Do not buy me a piano, Hannibal.”

Hannibal laughs, tipping his face towards Will’s mouth. “I wouldn’t dream of it. I wouldn’t survive the wrath of Will Graham.”

“You want to go out for dinner? My treat?” Will asks. 

Hannibal looks surprised by that. “I think I would, actually. I know a place by the water. Seafood, if you like that.”

They get dressed, and Will opts to wear his green button-down from the wash and black slacks. Hannibal dresses down a bit in a black sweater and gray slacks. Will takes the dogs out briefly, staring down at them in anxiety. “I don’t know that I want to leave them here,” he sighs. 

“They’ll be fine, Will,” Hannibal assures him. “We can leave them in the dining area. I’ll close off the sliding doors.”

Will feels slightly better about that, leaving them a bowl of water just in case.

They take Hannibal’s Bentley, and Will grits his teeth as they pull up to the restaurant. It’s… very nice. Probably nicer than Will can afford, but he offered and he would honor that even if it meant putting their meal on a credit card.

Will doesn’t think they’re even going to get a table judging by the line of people waiting outside, but as they approach the desk, the man that’s standing there greets Hannibal politely. “Dr. Lecter,” he says cordially. “So glad you joined us again. A table for two this time?”

Hannibal nods, “With a water view, if you have it. Thank you, Steven.”

“You’re welcome,” he says politely as he gathers two menus. “Right this way, please.”

It’s a big restaurant, but the seating arrangements coupled with the dim lighting make it feel cozier than it is. Their table is towards the back, and it’s directly in front of a large window that overlooks the Chesapeake Bay. It’s beautiful and Will sits in the chair, glancing out over the water. The moon hangs huge over the bay, glinting on the surface of the water like a ghost. 

“Beautiful,” Hannibal says absently and Will nods.

“It is, isn’t it?” he agrees as he turns his head to find Hannibal not looking out the window at all, but instead just looking at him. Will blushes hotly, tipping his face to hide it. “I meant the view.”

Hannibal smiles softly, touching Will’s cheek with the back of his hand. “As did I.”

There’s a little oil burning candle on the table, and it makes Hannibal’s eyes look like liquid amber. Will clears his throat, glancing sightlessly at the menu. “What’s good here, Dr. Lecter?”

“The chili crusted black sea bass is exquisite,” he replies. “I’m also partial to the seafood risotto.”

“You get one and I’ll get the other,” Will offers. “I want to try them both.”

“Deal,” Hannibal grins. 

The server comes and they place their orders, and Hannibal gets a bottle of pinot grigio for the table, too. 

“I start my job in three days,” Will muses, fidgeting in his seat a bit. 

“Yes,” Hannibal chuckles. “Why do you look like you want to run at the thought?”

Will shrugs and the server brings their wine, offering them each a small sample to taste before leaving the bottle. Will let’s Hannibal taste it, as he doesn’t know any better either way, and Hannibal nods. The server pours them each a glass before setting it in the ice bucket and walking away. “What I do there will matter. I’ll be shaping the future agents of the FBI. What I teach them could save their lives, or a victim’s life. Profiles that I consult on will determine whether a killer is caught or not. It’s…”

“A lot of responsibility,” Hannibal agrees, sipping his wine. “You’re only human, Will. You do the best that you can, and I have no doubt that you will. You cannot control everything. Relax and enjoy what you’ve earned.”

“Why did you decide not to become a surgeon?” Will asks. 

Hannibal looks surprised by the question, averting his eyes to look out the window. “I lost a patient in the ER.”

“People die in the ER, sometimes,” Will reasons, and Hannibal shakes his head.

“He came in for a headache,” Hannibal replies. “He had migraines frequently. I looked at his patient history and ignored the severity of his symptoms. There was a stabbing that night, and I was distracted with all the police there, the chaos of it. The man with the migraine had a brain aneurysm. If I’d have gotten him a CT, his wife wouldn’t have been a widow. His children would have had their father. It was my decision, and it was a poor one.”

“Hannibal,” Will sighs, reaching out to touch the back of his hand. Hannibal’s eyes find Will’s again, but they’re regretful. Heavy. “You’re only human. Forgive yourself for it.”

“He didn’t deserve to die,” Hannibal sighs. “There were others after that. Not specifically my fault, but every death felt like one too many.”

“You saved more than you lost, I’m sure,” Will assures him. “So, you got into therapy.”

Hannibal smiles softly, “Couple’s therapy. Far more violent than anything I’ve seen in the ER, I assure you.”

Will laughs, tracing his fingers along Hannibal’s inner wrist. Hannibal turns his hand and laces their fingers, smiling down at their joined hands. “What about you? Why law enforcement?”

Will bites his lip, trailing his finger down the soft skin between Hannibal’s index finger and his thumb. “My Dad died from liver failure when I was eighteen,” he says softly. “I didn’t even know he was that sick. A police officer came to my high school. Picked me up, took me to the hospital to see him. He was… so very kind. He went so far beyond what he needed to do for me. I wanted to do that. I wanted to be the light for someone else on the darkest day of their life. I graduated high school that spring and immediately applied to the police academy.”

“You’re a light for me, Will,” Hannibal replies softly. “In all my loneliness, it never occurred to me how bleak my life was until you came along. My life is brighter with you in it.”

Will’s eyes well up, and he smiles to hide it, glancing down at the table awkwardly. “I feel the same way about you, Hannibal.”

“To think, I almost demanded you get a referral,” Hannibal recollects with a grimace. “That would have been a very… regretful decision.”

“Very,” Will agrees with a grin. 

The waiter brings their dishes, and he lets go of Hannibal’s hand to make room for the plates. Both dishes are beautiful, and they smell absolutely divine. 

The risotto is placed in front of Will, so he tries that first, moaning a bit as he chews. “This is amazing,” he chuckles. 

Hannibal spears a bit of flakey bass on his fork, reaching over the table to offer it to Will, who grins as he accepts the fork into his mouth. The chili has a bit of spice to it, and the fish is cooked to perfection. Will nods, smiling at Hannibal’s bright expression. “That’s amazing, too. Want some of mine?”

Hannibal laughs as he takes a bite from Will’s fork, sighing because Will was generous and gave him a shrimp, too. “Wonderful,” he agrees.

They share their dinner, laughing and teasing, when a woman walks up to their table. “Hannibal,” she greets in a breathy whimper, and Will turns to see who is bothering them, his fork still raised for Hannibal’s lips. 

Ice cold shock rolls through Will, and he realizes that the woman knows him, too. “Alana,” Hannibal replies softly. “How wonderful to see you.”

“Likewise,” she agrees still staring at Will, then his raised fork. Will lowers his arm, dropping his fork in his plate. 

“Dr. Bloom,” Will greets awkwardly.

“Will,” she nods. “What a surprise. I wasn’t aware that you knew Hannibal.”

“He’s my partner,” Hannibal explains, and Will blushes. They haven’t had to define their relationship to anyone yet, and he likes the sound of being Hannibal’s partner more than he expected. 

Her mouth pinches briefly, and she forces a smile. He’s reading her easily. Jealousy. Indignation. Surprise. Resentment. A touch of suspicion over Will’s presence in Hannibal’s life. Her openness was why he ended their therapy years ago. She was too… expressive. The things she expressed made Will uncomfortable.

“I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone,” she replies while sliding her long hair off her shoulder. “I haven’t heard from you in a while.”

“I’ve been terribly busy,” he apologizes. 

“How did the two of you meet?” she asks, and her suspicion is back in full force.

“Will came to me while working on a profile,” Hannibal replies easily. “He starts on Monday at the academy in Quantico. You’ll likely see him there.”

“You’re the one Jack hired to take over classes for Criminal Psych,” she realizes, turning to Will with a tilt of her head.

“Yes,” Will says awkwardly. “I’ll also be consulting, on occasion.”

“Does Jack know that you’re…” she stalls out, glancing at Hannibal uncomfortably.

“An empath?” Will asks, and she nods. “Yeah, he’s aware.”

“Oh,” she replies with a raised eyebrow. “That’s… good.”

“Forgive me,” Hannibal interjects. “It was lovely to see you, but my beloved and I so rarely enjoy an evening out. We’ll catch up soon, yes?”

She flinches at being so forwardly cast aside, but she nods. “Of course. Enjoy your meal. Nice to see you both.”

She walks away, and Will can feel the indignation rolling off of her with every step she takes. “An ex of yours?”

“We… dated very briefly,” Hannibal admits awkwardly. “She’s very attached, and I am very much not interested.”

“You’re… bisexual, too?”

“I’m impartial, honestly,” Hannibal replies. “But she’s a colleague, and I know she feels much more strongly for me than I do for her. It would be rude to use that in my favor.”

Will smiles at that, biting his lip. “She was my therapist a few years ago,” Will admits shyly. “I made her very uncomfortable because I can read her like an open book. She thought I was unstable, but she was attracted to me. She never acted on it, but… I’d feel it. She was… afraid of me, so she used to hate my appointments. I told her I wouldn’t be coming to her anymore, and she was offended by that. She’d say one thing but demonstrate another. It was maddening.”

“I forget how awkward it must be for you to be around others,” Hannibal admits with a shrug. “Can you read everyone as easily as you can read her?”

“Usually,” Will chuckles. “You’re the first person who… lines up for me. You have secrets, but I think once you’re more comfortable with me, you’ll share them.”

“I worry that’s true,” Hannibal sighs, averting his eyes back towards the window. “I’ve certainly given you the means to know me, should you wish to.”

“You and your beloved don’t get to enjoy evenings out, huh?” Will teases, and the little stain of pink on Hannibal’s cheeks is worth it.

“You’re very dear to me,” Hannibal admits, piercing Will with his gaze again. “No amount of time with you is enough. I was tired of her bumbling through the conversation, when all I want is your eyes on me.”

“They’re on you, Hannibal,” Will says seriously, making total eye contact with him. The beautiful man that did not have to worm his way into Will’s life. He just… fits. Like he should have been there the whole time.

It was oddly satisfying and unnerving at the same time.

“Tell me you don’t want dessert,” Hannibal pleads, and Will considers teasing him, but doesn’t.

“I want you,” Will replies easily, and Hannibal raises his hand for the check.

Will hands off his credit card some-what rudely the moment the waiter walks over, and Hannibal chuckles once he goes off to process it. “Usually, one waits until there is a bill fold,” Hannibal laughs.

“Usually, one is not thinking about getting their gorgeous partner into bed,” Will replies dryly, and any laughing Hannibal had been doing stops. 

The waiter returns, looking a little hesitant. “Were your dinners to your satisfaction? I apologize if-”

“Everything was perfect,” Hannibal interjects. “There’s been an emergency, I’m afraid. Thank you, though.”

Will figures out the tip, and then they’re off. 

Will doesn’t feel like waiting so the moment they’re by the Bentley, he presses Hannibal against the car by his coat lapels, dragging him in for a deep kiss that makes his toes curl. Hannibal doesn’t seem to mind too much as his fingers lace through Will’s curls, pressing him tighter against his face. Will moans into his mouth, pressing his hips against Hannibal’s where he leans against the car, and it’s getting heated, fast.

Hannibal’s mouth travels down his throat, nuzzling against his stubble and it rasps against his lips. “Get in the car, Will.”

Will nods, extricating himself from Hannibal’s arms reluctantly as he gets into the car, and Hannibal goes around the side to get into the driver’s seat. 

He drives back to the house fast, and Will’s sure it’s because he can’t keep his hands off of Hannibal the entire way. His strong thigh. His forearm. His neck. Will’s touching him like he’s a lifeline, and in a way, he is. 

The moment they’re parked in front of the house, Will drags him in for another kiss, and Hannibal sighs against him, tucking his fingers into his curls as he tries to drag Will over the center console. “Inside,” Will sighs into his mouth. “Fuck, right now, Hannibal.”

They get out of the car, and Hannibal is fumbling for his keys while Will grinds against him, nipping at his neck and kissing his jaw. Will is absolutely aching for him, and he has no idea how it escalated like this. He knows he feels… ridiculously attracted to Hannibal. He thinks he’s also picking up Hannibal’s wild attraction to him, too. 

It makes it severely intense, and Will moans as he presses against his hip again, undulating himself lewdly against him when Hannibal finally gets the fucking door unlocked. 

They stumble inside, clumsily kissing, and shedding clothes and shoes while Hannibal awkwardly slams the door shut behind them. They’re tearing clothes off and kissing and nipping at skin while making their way upstairs, so by the time they make it to Hannibal’s bed, they’re mostly naked aside from their pants.

Hannibal reaches for his belt buckle, undoing it and flicking the button open while his mouth sucks bruises against Will’s collarbone, and he groans when he realizes that Will’s not wearing underwear. “All night? You’ve been…” he looks at a loss for words, and Will laughs. 

“I knew you’d like that,” Will sighs, arching his back as Hannibal tugs his pants down his hips. 

Will’s fumbling with Hannibal’s belt, so Hannibal helps him with shedding his own slacks, too. Hannibal falls back to the bed and Will immediately crawls between his spread thighs, kissing and licking his way down his chest. “I want inside of you,” Will sighs, nipping a harsh bruise against his hipbone. “Is that alright?”

Hannibal nods mutely, arching his hips off the bed and thrusting his generous erection against the side of Will’s neck. Will chuckles, turning his head to sink his mouth around him briefly to relieve some of his tension. The broken sob that escapes his beautiful man’s mouth in response makes him flush with arousal, so Will swirls his tongue around the head, collecting the salty tang of him against his tongue.

“Lube,” Hannibal grits out. “Side table drawer.”

Will gives him one last harsh suckle before pulling away to reach over to the drawer. He finds condoms and a new tube of lubrication, and he takes both back to Hannibal. “You want me to use this?” Will asks, holding up a foil square.

“After all we’ve done?” Hannibal laughs. “No, Will. I want you to finish inside of me. I want to smell you on my skin while I’m at my appointments tomorrow.”

Will groans at that, reaching down to grip himself harshly at the very thought of it. “I want that, too.”

Will leans over his body to kiss him, dragging their erections together slowly. Hannibal’s is still wet from Will’s mouth, and the skin of his cock catches on it, dragging sinfully as their kiss turns wet and deep. Will fumbles with the lube, gathering some onto his fingers to warm it before reaching between their bodies to press against Hannibal’s tight entrance. Hannibal moans into his mouth as Will breaches him with a single finger, working him open quickly so he can slide another one in.

He wants to keep kissing him while he preps him, but the angle is off. Will takes one of his legs and raises it around Will’s hip, almost folding him in half so he can reach his entrance better and kiss him at the same time. Will chances a glance down his body, and he groans at the gorgeous sight. 

Hannibal’s lean muscles of his torso are glistening and contracting while his thick cock lays against his abdomen. Will’s watching his fingers sink inside of him, and he crooks his fingers so they drag against that delicious spot inside. Hannibal arches against him, trying to pull him in deeper with fluttering muscles around his knuckles, and Will moans low in his throat, licking deep into his mouth. 

Will adds another finger once he feels it’s good to, and he only stretches him for a moment before Hannibal tears away from his mouth. “Now, Will. Please, please.”

Will nods dumbly, shifting back up to his knees so he can settle out between two strong thighs. His long, long, legs are wrapped around Will’s waist, and Will takes a minute to appreciate the feel of it. He runs his fingers up the quarter mile of them, dragging his palms across the insides of his thighs. “I’ve dreamed of this,” Will sighs. “These fucking legs wrapped around me. Fuck, you’re so damned beautiful.”

Hannibal’s cheeks tinge pink, his soft tongue darting out to lick his plump bottom lip. “I’ve dreamed of you, too,” Hannibal admits softly, and he drags his long legs up Will’s sides, gripping him gently between them.

He gathers more lube in his palm and slicks himself quickly before resting the blunt head of his cock against the loosened muscle of Hannibal’s entrance. Hannibal’s hands grope his hips, pulling him forward, and Will breaches him slowly. He’s so fucking tight it’s like being stuck in a vice, and Will moans as he slides in, thrusting his hips gently to ease his way. 

He bottoms out, and Hannibal’s thick cock is trapped between the unforgiving flesh of their strong stomachs. Will leans down to lick into his mouth while his fingers glide up through his chest hair, feeling the muscles of his chest and stomach. He’s so outrageously beautiful that Will moans, gliding his hips back and thrusting back in. 

Hannibal laces his fingers through Will’s curls and tugs his head back, suckling against the skin of his neck and throat. He’s not marking him, just… kissing the skin reverently. “I want to be on top, Will,” he breathes through a moan as Will thrusts into him.

The thought alone of being able to watch him take his own pleasure that way makes Will snap his hips involuntarily, and they both grunt at the impact. “Fuck,” Will breathes. “Yes, yes.”

They roll awkwardly, both not wanting Will to slide out for even a moment. Hannibal adjusts his knees to the sides of Will’s hips, arching his back as his grinds down. Will is as deep inside of him as he can be, and Hannibal’s mouth is parted open, his eyes shut as he swirls his hips. “You feel so fucking good, Will,” Hannibal moans. “So good.”

His eyes snap open to look down at him, and his eyes are devouring Will alive. His pace doesn’t pick up, it instead becomes slower. His hips roll and grind against him, and Will moans as he grips the strong muscles above his hips, feeling them flex and contract under his hands. Hannibal raises himself up on his thighs, almost sliding Will out completely before slowly lowering himself again, and he grinds down, fucking him so slowly that Will’s toes are curling against the mattress. “Will,” he moans while his hands grope and grip Will’s chest, his abdomen. He spreads his thighs more, leaning over their bodies to bring their mouths together. 

The kiss is deep and gentle, only tongues lapping and wet lips gliding while Hannibal grinds down against him. No one is thrusting, and if they keep at this pace they could be here for hours.

Will moans at the very thought. This isn’t fucking. Not by a mile. 

They’re making love. Will knows it down to his bones as Hannibal rolls his hips softly, grinding against him forcefully while their tongues slide and caress. Hannibal’s fingers have worked their way into Will’s hair, and he can feel Hannibal twirling it between his fingers, learning its texture and toying with the curls. 

“Hannibal,” Will moans as he nuzzles at the spot behind Will’s ear, tugging his earlobe gently between his teeth. “Oh, God,” he can’t help himself. Hannibal’s name falls from his lips like a prayer, and Hannibal shushes him with his mouth as they gasp and pant against one another. 

Just when Will is certain he’s about to come, Hannibal stills his hips and kisses him gently for a few minutes, licking into his mouth softly. The feeling goes away a bit, and then Hannibal begins grinding on him again. It’s fucking maddening and so God damned hot at the same time.

Their fingers touch reverently. Their mouths caress lovingly. And Hannibal keeps the pace so slow and deep that Will thinks he’s going to lose his fucking mind.

He’s never done this, before. Usually it’s just a frantic fuck to get his needs sated, or it’s an awkward, lengthy, encounter that lets Will know neither party was really interested to begin with. This is sensual. Will can feel how unbelievably interested Hannibal is in him, and Will almost can’t believe it because he feels the exact same way. This gorgeous man is enamored with him, and every gentle roll of his body over him let’s Will know it. 

Hannibal looks at him like he’s the only one he’s ever seen. The only one to see him this way.

Maybe Will is.

Will spreads his thighs a bit, grinding up as Hannibal rolls his hips down, and they both moan and sigh as Will slips deeper. Will grips his back as he sits up, lacing his arms around Hannibal’s waist to keep him deep and close. Hannibal adjusts for him, twining his arms around Will’s neck as he continues grinding on his cock; his own thick, wet, dick trapped between them. 

Will reaches between their bodies to relieve some tension for him, but Hannibal shakes his head, his head tipping back as he rolls his strong hips. “No,” he breathes. “Just like this, Will.”

Will falters at that, gripping the hard muscles of his back instead. He suckles at the expanse of long neck in front of him, thrusting ever so gently into his body while Hannibal takes his pleasure.

Will lets out a desperate little mewl as he’s about to come, and Hannibal presses him back to the mattress, sliding almost entirely off of Will’s cock and holding himself up. Will slaps the mattress as the feeling backs down again, and he chuckles up at Hannibal who’s giving him a filthy little smirk. “You’ll come when I want to come.”

“You’re a fucking tease,” Will sighs as he sinks back down again, grinding and rolling Will’s cock deep inside of him. “God, you feel so good. Do you feel this?” Will wonders, looking up at him desperately. “Do you feel it?”

“I feel it,” Hannibal moans. “Where have you been all my life, Will?”

“I’m here now,” Will sighs, and Hannibal leans over him again to kiss him deeply. 

“Yes,” Hannibal sighs, licking into his mouth again. “My beloved.”

Will moans at that, and Hannibal’s pace picks up minutely. His hips roll against Will’s, and the soft drag of his cock deep inside of this gorgeous man spikes pleasure through his abdomen. He’s close, and Hannibal’s desperate little sighs of pleasure let Will know that he is, too. 

He doesn’t want to come until Hannibal does, so he grits his teeth as Hannibal rocks back onto his knees. Hannibal arches his back, and the long, lean, muscles of his torso flex and roll under his skin beautifully. Will reaches out to touch them because he can’t even stomach the idea of not doing so.

There’s a fog of urgency around Will, and Hannibal’s muscles undulate as he flutters his entrance around Will’s cock, gripping him tightly as Hannibal grinds more forcefully against him. His hips stutter, and he moans loud into the room as he comes across Will’s stomach. Will thrusts up into him through it, crying out as Hannibal’s tight muscles contract around him, and he’s coming deep inside of the beautiful man over him, gripping his hips as he empties himself inside. 

Hannibal slumps against him, and he’s chuckling as he drags their mouths together lazily while their fingers trace the damp muscles of their skin. “You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen,” Will tells him. He’s blushing as he admits it, and Hannibal kisses the heat of his cheek softly.

“All of you,” Hannibal breathes against his face. “Everything about you, Will. I’m besotted.”

Will wants to not believe it. No one has ever been so enamored by him before, but he can feel it. He knows Hannibal is being completely honest, and it’s a shock to him to know it. “I know you are. I hope you know I feel the same way.”

“You don’t know all of me yet,” Hannibal sighs. 

“I won’t be frightened away,” Will assures him. “When you’re ready to talk to me about it, I’m here.”

“I hope that’s true,” Hannibal says, sliding his lips softly across the edge of Will’s jaw. 

“I’ve got to feed my dogs and take them for a little walk,” Will sighs. 

“You’re staying here tonight,” Hannibal demands softly, pressing wet kisses to his neck. “Please.”

Will smiles, tipping his head back to allow his lips to do as they please. “Obviously,” he chuckles while Hannibal latches his mouth over his Adam’s apple, feeling it bob against his tongue.

“I have a half-day tomorrow,” Hannibal tells him. “I’ll be leaving by two. Maybe you could come with me to my storage unit? See if there’s anything you like?”

“Yeah,” Will agrees, trailing his fingers up Hannibal’s spine and making the lovely man shiver. “I am still paying you.”

“Good,” Hannibal agrees with a grin. “I would hate it if you accepted hand-outs.”

“Liar,” Will laughs, and Hannibal kisses him again. He climbs from Will’s lap, and Will feels bereft without the heat of him against his chest. They clean up quickly in the bathroom, each getting dressed in pajamas that Hannibal lays out for them before heading back downstairs. 

Hannibal takes a glass dish from the refrigerator, setting out two bowls as he distributes whatever is inside. “Sweet potatoes, this time,” Hannibal muses.

“You cooked for my dogs again?” Will laughs. “Thank you.”

Hannibal feeds them, and Winston comes to him immediately this time, tail wagging and head tipped up to look at him. Friends, finally.

Will refills their water dish, then discreetly walks around the dining room to check if Buster has done anything untoward in the house. He hasn’t, and Will sighs in relief. There’s dog fur all over a carpet that probably costs more than Will’s car, but that can be cleaned. Probably.

Once the dogs are done eating, they leash them and pull on their coats, Hannibal taking Winston’s leash this time. The dogs go number one and two in Hannibal’s neighborhood, and Will picks it up with the little plastic bags he keeps in his jacket pocket, tossing them into the trash on the corner of the street. 

Will washes his hands when he gets back to the house, stalling out when he sees his dogs are not confined to the dining area anymore. “Buster,” he says softly, and Hannibal holds up a hand.

“They’re fine, Will,” he assures him. “Let’s go to bed.”

It’s not awkward to climb back into bed with Hannibal. It’s downright perfect to nestle against him and rest against his side. It’s even more wonderful when Hannibal holds him close, pressing kisses to his temple. 

Will doesn’t want to lose him, he realizes as he’s drifting off. Not for anything in the world.


	10. Chapter 10

Will is woken up the next morning by Hannibal nuzzling his temple, pressing kisses to his cheek. He smiles into the pillow, noting the spicy scent of the other man’s cologne in the air. When he cracks an eye open, it’s to the unbelievably gorgeous sight of Hannibal leaning over him in a three-piece suit, immaculately put together. “I’m leaving for work, beloved,” he says softly, pressing another kiss to Will’s temple. 

“What,” Will croaks, clears his throat of heavy sleep, and tries again. “What time is it?”

“Seven-thirty,” Hannibal tells him and Will groans. 

“You shoulda woke me up,” he says while stretching lazily against the fluffy bed. He’s slept like the dead, and his body was sated from good sleep and great sex. He smiles up at Hannibal, touching the soft material of his blazer gently. 

Hannibal leans in and kisses him on his mouth, even though Will’s sure his morning breath is a nightmare, right now. “You were sleeping so soundly. I could not disturb you. I’m leaving the office today at two, and I’ll meet you back here afterwards. Unless you’d prefer that I go to your office?”

Will nods, “Do you mind that? I’ve got to work on my syllabus for a bit.”

“It’s no trouble at all. I’ll meet you there for three, then. I’d like to come home and change, first.”

“Sure,” Will replies. 

“I’ve left you a spare house key on the kitchen counter. Put it on your keychain, please. I’d like you to have it.”

Will almost considers arguing about that but decides it’s pointless. It would be helpful to have a spare key, and Will’s already given him keys to his house. They were… key sharers, now. They were a couple that each had keys to things, and the ridiculous thought makes him grin. “Okay.”

Hannibal’s eyebrow cocks in surprise, “I was certain I was going to get an argument.”

“I was revving up for one, but… it makes sense. Thank you.”

“There’s coffee for you downstairs,” Hannibal replies with a little grin on his face. He’s happy that Will hasn’t refused him, and Will can feel it just as strongly as his own joy. “I’ve also left a frittata in the refrigerator. Please eat before you go.”

“You’re spoiling me rotten,” Will chuckles, wiping the sleep from his face. 

“I love spoiling you,” he grins. “The little blush on your cheeks provokes me, Will.”

“Go to work,” Will warns him with a laugh. “Before I peel you out of that suit and eat you alive.”

The beautiful man laughs, and the sound is rich and warm to Will’s ears. “See you later, beloved.”

Will smiles as he leans in for another kiss, and Will touches his face gently to hold him there for a second. He’s afraid to rumple him, so he makes sure to keep his fingers on his smooth jaw only.

After he leaves, Will crawls from the bed reluctantly. He uses the bathroom and brushes his teeth with the new toothbrush that Hannibal’s left on the counter for him before heading downstairs. 

The coffee and the frittata are absolutely delicious, and he finds himself moaning over how good it is. There are little bits of rich meat in every bite, and it’s so damned good that Will thinks about eating more of it.

He goes into the downstairs bathroom and rummages through the vanity, finding a few new disposable razors in the drawer as well as a tiny can of shaving cream. He hasn’t shaved in almost a week, and he decides today is the day.

After shaving his face clean, he makes sure to clean up the counter and sink so that it’s as pristine as it was before he got there. He puts the razor he used back in the drawer, because he knows already that he’ll be staying here again at some point. He takes another shower and cleans up the room before he leaves it. 

He gathers his dogs and their leashes, as well as his dirty clothes before leaving the house. Adding his house key to his keychain feels… right. Like the best thing that’s happened to him in a long time.

Once his dogs are settled and walked after he returns to the office, he takes his laptop out to work on his syllabus. There are several cases that need to be worked into his lectures, so he diddles with his PowerPoints, adding crime scene photos here and there. He's almost caught up with a semester's worth of material, and even better than that, he's proud of his lectures, so far. 

There’s a knock at the door, and Will flinches at it. He’s essentially closed for business, so he can’t imagine what anyone would be doing here at two on a Friday.

He opens the door hesitantly to find Molly shifting her feet awkwardly, avoiding eye contact with him entirely. “Hey,” she says softly. His hackles are up, but he notices she’s holding a small box at her hip. “I have some things that you forgot. Figured you might want them.”

He debates asking her to leave the box and go, but he lets her in instead. “Thanks for that,” he replies as she walks into his office, looking around the room where he’s been living with interest.

“Have you found a place?” she asks, turning to him curiously. 

“I bought a house,” he replies, and she recoils at that. “It’s a fixer upper, so I’m living here in the meantime.”

“Hannibal’s not letting you stay with him?” she asks, and her tone is… resentful. 

“Why would I stay with him, Molly?” he asks instead of answering her. 

She shakes her head, turning to him with a regretful expression. “Sorry,” she says awkwardly.

“Thanks for bringing my stuff,” he says eventually. He’s trying to get her to leave, but she doesn’t take the hint. 

“I do miss you,” she says immediately, and he sighs. “I know you think I’ve never loved you, but I did. I think a part of me still does.”

“Molly,” he sighs, tugging his hand through his hair. “We’re…”

“Over, I know,” she interjects. “I just… wanted you to know that I haven’t been using you to get over Tom. At least… not in the beginning.”

“I know,” he replies, sitting at the edge of his desk. 

“Where is your new house?” she asks, and he debates not telling her, but he has no reason to keep it from her, really.

“Virginia,” he says instead. 

“Are you still going to work for the academy?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “It’ll be a little commute, but I don’t mind that.”

She nods, walking around the room slowly. “I’m moving back in with Tom,” she tells him, and Will’s not surprised by that in the least.

“I’m… happy for you,” he replies hesitantly. “I hope it works out better for you, this time.”

“Thanks,” she says awkwardly. “I, uh… for what it’s worth, I feel… remorse about what I did to Dr. Lecter. Do you know if… if he’s…”

“He’s fine,” Will replies. “There was an inquiry, but it’s been resolved.”

He knows she’s only asked to see if he’s still in touch with him and at this point, he doesn’t care what she knows. He’s not Hannibal’s patient anymore, and it’s not the end of the world if people know he’s seeing him. “So, you’re…”

“Seeing him, yes,” he admits with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Mol. I’m sorry I… cheated.”

“I’m sorry I did, too,” she replies, swiping absently at a tear on her cheek. “I feel like… I’m not ready to lose you. I know that’s a selfish thing to say to you, but…”

“You’re… allowed to feel however you feel,” Will replies awkwardly. 

“I was going to marry you,” Molly says suddenly, and Will chances a glance down at her hand. His engagement ring to her is still there. Still gleaming on her finger. The sight of it there shocks him, as she just admitted she was moving in with Tom again. “Remember when we took that trip to Maine for a long weekend?” she asks, and Will nods absently. 

“Yeah,” he replies, walking farther away to put some distance between them.

“I wanted to see the Pier at Old Orchard,” she chuckles. “We ended up never leaving the cabin we rented at that place. What was it called?”

“Paradise Park,” Will recalls immediately, and she laughs.

“That’s right,” she sighs. “That weekend… it was paradise, Will. Just you, me, our full-sized bed. Cheap whiskey by the fire outside at night. We were so happy, and it wasn’t… forced. It wasn’t faked. I was happy with you.”

“You didn’t know me well enough yet,” Will replies, grimacing as he turns away from her to gather up his syllabus and chapter outlines. “Molly, I don’t know what you want, right now.”

“I guess I want to know that it wasn’t a lie,” she sighs, and he turns to her with a regretful expression. 

“It wasn’t,” he tells her seriously. “At least not then, anyway. I…” Will falters, glancing down at his shoes to avoid any eye contact with her. “I’m not in love with you anymore. I’m sorry, Molly. I feel like you’re here to see if there’s still a chance, and I’m telling you that there isn’t.”

She flinches at that, swiping absently at a few more tears. “Right,” she says, licking the tears from the corners of her mouth. “Okay. Take… take care of yourself, Will. I know… I know he seems like the perfect man,” she sighs. “Look into him. Just Google him and you’ll see it. Not because I want you to come back to me, but because you should have some idea.”

Will scowls at that, shaking his head. “You should go. I have an appointment I need to get ready for in an hour.”

She walks to the door, turning to him with a frown. “Goodbye, Will.”

“Take care, Molly,” he replies, and he slumps in his chair once she’s gone. He doesn’t know why he does it, but he flips his laptop open immediately and searches ‘Hannibal Lecter’ in Google.

The results are startling, to say the least.

He’s in endless social pages and articles. He’s apparently the top tier of the Baltimore elite. He’s a count from what Will understands, and he’s richer and more well-off than he could ever imagine. 

There are countless photos of him out and about. Operas, charities, galas, fund-raisers, and balls. _Balls_. Will wasn’t aware that people even threw balls anymore, let alone that they happened here in Baltimore.

In every photo, there’s a different beautiful woman on his arm. Some blonde, some brunette. Some voluptuous and some thin and waifish. They’re all different but beautiful and similar in the way that they show they were raised with money. Hannibal kissing them. Hannibal holding them close as they party in opulent surroundings. It’s a shallow and meaningless life. Will can feel the lack of connection in each photo. 

The only constant in any of the photos is the complete absence of any men on his arm. _Only_ women. 

Hundreds of different photos, and not one with a single man on his arm.

The realization makes Will swallow hard. Is there a possibility that Hannibal is… ashamed of that part of himself? Is it that he’s never met a man that he wants to introduce to anyone else? Or is it that his sex life with men is a fetish? Something he indulges in on a whim? 

Seeing Hannibal this way makes Will’s stomach turn. This is not who he knows, and it’s not who he thinks Hannibal really is. The loving man that took him to dinner last night was not ashamed of him in the least, and Will clicks out of the website harshly, sitting back in his chair to consider it.

Will leans forward again and types, ‘Hannibal Lecter, 2012’ into the search engine, and more recent photos come up.

He still goes to operas and galas, but he’s alone in every photo. There’s an article that speculates whether Hannibal was married in secret, judging by the abrupt departure of beautiful dates from his side.

What Hannibal has told him matches up. He’s tired of living a shallow life, and he’s looking for more. He wants more, and it feels like what he wants is Will.

If all Molly really knows of him is what she’s read in these gossip pages, it’s no wonder she thinks so little of him. He looks like a lech on paper, but Will knows him. He does, doesn’t he?

He’s… pissed off at himself for doing this, but it’s too late to take it back. He has questions, now. Questions that are going to make him look like a stalkerish… stalker. He clicks out of the website as Hannibal breezes into his office, dressed down in a sweater and nice slacks. His smile is warm as he regards Will, and he decides to drop it for now.

“You shaved,” Hannibal notes as he leans over the chair to kiss him. His long fingers stroke along his jawline, rubbing at the newly smooth skin there reverently.

“I rummaged through your cabinets in your downstairs bathroom,” he confesses with a laugh. “I hope you don’t mind that I took a disposable razor.”

“I don’t,” Hannibal assures him, leaning in to kiss him again. “Shall we?”

Will nods, and he takes his coat before he leaves.

They take the Bentley to the storage unit, and Will is… quiet on the drive there. Hannibal notices, because he notices everything. “Has something happened?”

Will sighs, shifting in the buttery leather of the seat. “Molly came by the office to bring me a box of stuff that I left at the house.”

There’s a tiny tick of Hannibal’s jaw, but nothing else that could be considered a tell. “Oh? How did that go?”

“She told me she’s moving back in with Tom and hinted that she wants me back all in the same breath,” Will admits awkwardly. “She’s… a mess, I think.”

“How did it make you feel to hear that she still desires a relationship with you?” Hannibal asks, and his tone is so clinical Will can almost picture him writing in a leather notebook as he asks it.

“It makes me feel like I am glad it’s over, which is basically what I told her,” Will retorts. “I don’t want her back, Hannibal. I would think you know that.”

“Two years is a long time to be with another person.”

“It is,” Will agrees easily. “But the last eight or nine months with her have been… difficult.”

“Did she stay long?” Hannibal wonders, and even with a question like that his mask stays perfectly in place. Will cannot get a read on him whatsoever. 

“Maybe ten minutes,” he replies. “Long enough for her to suggest that I Google you to see what you’re really like.”

Genuine surprise shows on his face for a fraction of a second before it smooths out. “Did you?”

“Yeah,” Will sighs. “I did.”

The silence afterwards would be deafening if it weren’t for the classical music playing through the speakers. 

“Did you glean anything of value from doing so?” Hannibal asks eventually.

“Sort of,” Will admits. “Did you ever date men, Hannibal? Or are the sexual encounters that you’ve had with them a dirty secret?”

Hannibal’s jaw clenches while his hands grip the steering wheel a little tighter. “I fear there’s no way to answer that question without causing… hard feelings.”

“I guess that answers that,” Will replies tartly. 

“It does and it doesn’t,” Hannibal replies with a sigh. “I did not bring any men to social outings, but I did see them privately. My openness with my sexuality… Will, in my profession and in my social standing, it could be construed as… inappropriate. I kept the men I’ve seen out of the spotlight. The women in those photos… they meant nothing to me. Much in the same way that the men I saw meant nothing. It was simply a matter of how I wanted to be perceived.”

“And being perceived as a rich man that’s dripping in pussy is better than being perceived as a rich man that sucks cock? You’re right, that _does_ cause hard feelings.”

Hannibal groans at that, his jaw clenched so tightly that Will’s own aches just looking at it. “You aren’t like any of them,” he replies instead. “I want to take you everywhere with me. I want you on my arm, I want you in my life. I would be thrilled if you would allow me to claim you that way. I had given up on the whole idea of finding someone worthy of my time until you came into my life.”

“How would that make you _feel_ , Doctor Lecter?” Will asks sourly. “To know that all your upper-crust friends know you bed another man?”

“It makes me feel sick,” Hannibal replies gruffly. “I don’t want them to think I’m fucking you. I want them to know that I share my life with you in every way that I can do so. I want them to see you as my equal. As my other half. My partner. I don’t want them imagining you as a bed warmer, Will. You’re more than that.”

“So, the first time I’m seen out with you, I’ll essentially be outing you to the world?” Will asks miserably. “ _Great_.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Hannibal sighs. “Freddie Lounds has written a few articles about my sex-life before she started specifically writing about crimes, only. She’s already outed me.”

“Alana didn’t seem especially surprised to see you with a guy,” Will recalls absently. “So your friends already have an idea about you.”

“You say that as though I am ashamed of who I am, and I’m not,” Hannibal replies harshly. “I am not ashamed, Will. Not of myself, and especially not of you.”

Will swipes a hand across his face, groaning as he turns to Hannibal. “It’s in your past,” he says dismissively. “I shouldn’t have looked you up like that. I was concerned, I don’t want to lie to you. I won’t hide who I am, and I wanted you to know that. I just want to be clear.”

“I’m not asking you to hide,” he replies softly. “I wanted to broach the topic of attending a few upcoming functions with me, but I was waiting for a good time to do so. I fear now that asking you to attend them with me will appear like I’m trying to placate you.”

Will chuckles at that, shaking his head. “It does appear that way, yeah. I’ll go with you, though. I’ll go because I think I know you better than to offer prosaic pacifications.” 

“You do know me better than that,” Hannibal replies, turning to Will hesitantly once they’re in the parking lot of the storage unit. “I won’t apologize to you for decisions I’ve made before I knew you. I built my practice in a new country with no help from anyone but myself, and I made decisions that I thought would benefit me at the time. I won’t apologize for what I’ve done to get here, but I will tell you that you’re the only one that matters in a long line of those that do not.”

Will bites his lip at that, glancing away from the intensity of Hannibal’s gaze. “I know you… care about me,” Will admits awkwardly. “I can feel it, sometimes.” He feels something heavier than simple caring, but Will isn’t ready to admit that, yet. “I just… wasn’t sure if I’d be left home while you went out at some point. I don’t want to be a dirty secret to anyone, Hannibal.”

“I assure you,” Hannibal sighs, reaching over hesitantly to touch the side of Will’s jaw with his fingertips. “You will not be a secret. Dirty or otherwise.”

“Then we’re okay,” Will assures him with a sigh. “You might regret taking me anywhere. I can be kind of rude, sometimes.”

“I’ve gathered as much,” Hannibal replies disapprovingly. “ _Dripping in pussy_. For God’s sake, Will.”

Will laughs awkwardly, covering his face in his hands. “That was disgusting of me to say,” he acknowledges with a grimace. “Sorry.”

Hannibal cracks a tiny grin at that, turning to Will with an unreadable expression. “You’re very lucky I’m so fond of you. I usually don’t tolerate being spoken to that way. I usually do not tolerate it at _all_.”

“My mouth moves faster than my brain sometimes,” Will chuckles. “Molly used to hate that, too.”

“I don’t hate it,” Hannibal assures him. “It’s refreshing, occasionally.”

“When it’s not crass,” Will laughs.

“Come see if you want any of my old furniture,” Hannibal sighs. “Before you say something else to rile me.”

They leave the car and Hannibal walks them to a storage unit. Will arches an eyebrow when he realizes that it’s climate controlled. Hannibal unlocks the door and slides it open, and Will’s mouth falls open.

The unit is larger than his office and stacked with beautiful furniture. They walk through slowly, and Will turns to him with a raised eyebrow. “All of this was from your first place here?”

Hannibal nods, glancing around the space. “I had a small apartment in the north end while I was in medical school. I stayed there through most of my residency before I moved to Chandler Square. None of the furniture I owned matched the new home, but I didn’t want to sell it, either. It’s all in good shape, but I will never use it again. Whatever you think you’ll need is available to you. I’m going to give away the rest and get rid of the storage unit after this. It’s frivolous to hold onto this for all this time.”

The cherry maple dining set has a few scratches on it, but it doesn’t bother Will too much. He doesn’t even think he’d refinish it, not with two dogs in the house.

There’s a nice, modern-looking dark olive sofa, and Will touches it absently. There are a few lamps made of oak wood with white shades, and two cream colored accent chairs. There are two oak bookcases, and an oak dresser and bedframe. Will honestly loves all of it, and he turns to Hannibal with a hesitant expression. “How much would you want for all of it?”

“The price of a moving truck?” Hannibal asks and Will scowls at him. “A hundred dollars and the price of a moving truck,” he amends unhelpfully.

“Hannibal,” Will warns him, and the other man sighs.

“I don’t know why you insist on giving me money when I just told you I’m planning to get rid of everything here.”

“Because,” Will replies, but he honestly doesn’t know what his argument is.

“Five hundred dollars for all of it, plus you pay for the moving truck,” Hannibal concedes.

That made Will feel a little better. “Deal.”

“Perfect,” Hannibal replies with a grin. “We can come back tomorrow with a truck. I’ll help you load it.”

“You’re going to help me?” Will asks with a laugh, and Hannibal turns a glare on him.

“I can do manual labor, Will,” he replies haughtily. “I’m in good shape.”

“Oh, I know it,” Will teases him as he walks over to touch that body that’s in such good shape. His fingers slide up the soft material of his sweater, and he leans up for a kiss that Hannibal agrees to eagerly. “You just furnished my entire house. Thank you for that.”

“You’ll need a mattress and box spring,” Hannibal reminds him, and Will sighs. He’d forgotten about that.

“You busy this afternoon? You mind coming with me to pick one out?”

“I am not busy,” Hannibal replies. “You’ll need toiletries and shower curtains as well. Shall we?”

They spend the rest of the afternoon buying a mattress and box spring, and Will lets Hannibal pick out his bathroom shower curtains and towels because he knows what colors he’s picked for those rooms.

By the time they’re finished shopping for all of Will’s house stuff, it’s late and Will feels like he’s about to drop. He hates shopping, even for things that are for his own home.

They stop for dinner at a little Italian restaurant, and Hannibal pays for them both, insisting it’s a celebratory dinner for Will’s new house. Will has a suspicion that Hannibal knows his money is getting tight, especially after spending a grand on a mattress.

By the time Hannibal drops him off at his office the little, thankful, lump in his throat is almost choking him. He turns in the leather seat and grips Hannibal’s arm, startling the other man to stillness. “I don’t know what I would have done without you through all of this,” he admits softly. It wrenches his gut to admit it, but it is the truth. “You’ve been so good to me, and I want you to know that I appreciate you. I appreciate all of it. I bit off more than I could chew with this house, and I didn’t realize it until I was drowning. Thank you. Just… thank you.” He turns his face to hide the embarrassing glitter of tears in his eyes, and Hannibal tips his face back towards his own.

“I wanted to, Will,” he replies softly. “If I can ease your burden even by a bit, I want to do that for you. I know it stings your pride to accept gifts like this, and I also know how momentous it is that you are allowing me to help you. There’s… very little I wouldn’t do for you. I look forward to spending time with you in your new home. You’ll get back on your feet once you start getting paychecks, Will. Everything will work out, and if you ever need anything, I am here.”

Will leans forward and kisses him harshly, gripping his face against his own almost desperately. Hannibal sighs, lacing his fingers through Will’s hair and returning the kiss just as eagerly. Will would make it up to him at some point. He didn’t know how, and he had no idea when, but he would. Will wanted to take care of him, too. An opportunity would just have to make itself known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we see the last of Molly! she's gone, folks. 
> 
> From here on out, there will be some relationship building as well as a case-fic portion of story that has difficult subject matter. I will put notes up as needed for Trigger Warnings. <3


	11. Chapter 11

Will picks up a rental early the next morning, swinging by Hannibal’s house to get him before they go to the storage unit. He knew Hannibal was helping him move. He knew that, yet when he came out of his house wearing a tight, deep grey, vee neck tee, with a hoodie over it and jogging pants, Will’s throat still goes completely dry.

If he thought the suits and sweaters were good, this is decidedly better. He climbs into the truck with a filthy little smirk while leaning in for a brief kiss, and Will returns it almost absently. He wants to look at that chest and waist in a tiny shirt, but there’s a jerk beeping behind him. He is blocking the road with a massive rental, after all.

He pulls away from the curb as Hannibal buckles up, and they head to the rental unit quietly. Mostly because Will hasn’t had coffee yet. Also, because his tongue is still stuck to the roof of his mouth.

“Thanks for coming with me today,” Will says eventually. “I would have had to pay movers otherwise, and I don’t think I could have, right now.”

“Anything, Will,” Hannibal assures him. 

Unloading the unit is not all that hard. None of the furniture is especially heavy, so they make quick work of moving it all out. There are several boxes as well, and Will doesn’t even know what’s in them as he’s loading them. He bought everything, so he’d have to sort it out at some point.

The drive to his house is mostly quiet until they’re passing a coffee shop and Hannibal announces that he’d like a coffee. Will turns in and Hannibal heads inside quickly while Will sits out with the truck.

When Hannibal returns, he’s got two coffees and a bag with him, and Will grins as he takes his coffee. “Thank you,” he says quietly. 

“You didn’t have time for a coffee this morning I take it,” Hannibal grins while rummaging through the bag. 

“No,” Will admits softly, sipping his coffee gently. He’s handed a sandwich that Hannibal bought him, and Will takes it gratefully. 

They sit in the van and eat delicious ham and egg sandwiches on croissants, each sipping their coffee that’s just a hair too hot to enjoy just yet. “Did we stop because you wanted something, or because you thought I needed something?”

Hannibal grins from the passenger seat, crinkling the paper up from his sandwich. “Perhaps a bit of both.”

Will pulls back out onto the street, heading towards his house again. “I needed it, so thank you,” he says softly.

They pull up to his house about forty-five minutes later, and Hannibal gets out, breathing in deeply as he looks around. It’s only then that Will realizes he hasn’t seen his house, yet. Will walks around to his side of the truck, Hannibal’s eyes still closed while he inhales deeply. “The air out here is so clean,” Hannibal remarks while his eyes flutter back open. “I haven’t been out of the city in too long, I’m afraid.”

“The location is my favorite thing about it,” Will admits with a smile. He doesn’t resist the pull of all that muscle under the material of his shirt anymore. He reaches out and smooths his palms over his chest, sliding them down to his abdomen. “I love the peace and quiet.”

Hannibal looks amused by his impulsive groping, leaning into his hands gently while tipping his face for a soft kiss. “The house looks structurally sound,” Hannibal says eventually, and Will turns to look at it with a critical eye. The outside still needs… work. A new layer of paint, a few replaced shingles. The bushes need to be trimmed back, and his lawn needs to be… reseeded, probably. He’s suddenly shy about how it looks from the outside, and he ducks his head, blushing softly.

Hannibal notices his embarrassment, and his index finger lifts Will’s chin gently, tipping his eyes back up to his own. “All in time, Will. This spring we can repair the outside, give it paint. Nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s an old house, but it’s perfect.”

“Let’s go inside,” Will says instead of responding. “I haven’t seen anything that’s been done yet.”

Will unlocks his door, heading inside hesitantly. The room smells brand new, fresh polyurethane, paint, new wood. He inhales sharply at how beautiful his house is, as it did not look like this the last time he was here.

The floors are all sanded down and gleaming, the trim has been painted a cream white. All of his windows are spotless, as someone cleaned them with loving attention to detail. Hannibal follows in after him, smiling brightly. “This is lovely, Will,” he says while looking around. “Plenty of space for you.”

He heads into his kitchen to note that the old wood cabinets have been cleaned and oiled, his butcher block countertops sanded and resealed. His new appliances are gleaming in the light coming from the windows, and Will’s throat closes up as he looks around. This is his. His house. Hannibal did this for him.

They head to the main-floor bathroom, and the tears Will has kept at bay escape. The whole room is absolutely beautiful. There’s a navy vanity with a white countertop, and the gray and white tile on the floors goes perfectly with the light gray paint on the walls. The new shower stall, toilet, and faucet are all gleaming and gorgeous, and Will turns to Hannibal with a stuttering breath.

Hannibal looks surprised to see his face shiny with tears, and he reaches out to pull Will close. “Are you upset or grateful? I can’t tell, beloved.”

Will swallows harshly, gripping the soft material of his tee shirt in his hands. “A little of both,” he croaks out. “This is… thank you.”

“Do you like the vanity in blue?” he asks in a worried tone. “I wanted gray, but it was on back-order.”

Will laughs, pressing a kiss to his sharp cheekbone. “I love the blue, actually.”

They head upstairs, and the floors are gleaming up here, too. His bedroom is painted a beautiful, muted, blue. Almost gray in the right light, and Will walks into the room hesitantly. It felt strange that this was his, still. So very strange.

The upstairs bathroom matches the one in the downstairs, and Will smiles softly as they head back out to the truck to unload it. He owed Hannibal. He had no idea where to begin.

They make quick work of unloading the furniture and getting it into the house. Hannibal offers advice about how to set up the living room, and Will lets him put the furniture wherever he wants, as Will doesn’t specifically care too much.

His new dining set fits the dining room perfectly, and Will likes that it’s a little scuffed up. Nothing else in his house is, anymore.

Will puts together the bedframe while Hannibal slides the drawers back in the dresser, and they end up with some time to kill before his mattress delivery at noontime. 

Hannibal gathers up the new towels and new sheets and heads into the basement to do a load of wash, while Will installs his shower curtain rods and gets the liners and new shower curtains up.

The mattress delivery company arrives just after twelve, and that wraps up all his new house needs, for the moment. 

Hannibal swaps the load into the dryer before they take off to return the rental and pick up his dogs and few boxes of things from his office. Hannibal asks to be dropped off at his house so he can get his own car, and Will agrees to meet him back at his house in a bit, then.

When they get back to his house, Hannibal unloads a cast iron pot from his car and brings it into the house, immediately turning on his stove and getting the dish inside to start cooking. He made dinner and brought it here. Will feels ridiculously grateful to him for it. 

Hannibal helps him unload the boxes he has, as well as hang his clothes in his closet. His dogs are sniffing around the house, very confused about their new surroundings.

Hannibal takes care of setting up the bathrooms, placing new bottles of shampoo and new bar soaps in the showers, and filling a few pretty soap dispensers with hand soap on the counters.

They make his new bed together, fluffing the sheets and getting the room ready for his first night here. 

By the time they finish unpacking and setting up, they’re both visibly tired and the smell of good food cooking makes Will’s stomach grumble. Hannibal chuckles as they settle out on the sofa, each stretching their legs exhaustedly. “This was more work than I thought it would be,” Will chuckles. “You’re a saint, Hannibal.”

Hannibal laughs at that, arching an eyebrow playfully. “Not even remotely, Will.”

“Fuck,” Will blurts out, sitting up abruptly. “I just realized I don’t own dishes.”

“You do own them, actually,” Hannibal grins. “You bought a box of them from my storage unit.”

“Did I?” Will laughs. “Well that’s good. We were about to eat dinner out of the pan.”

“They’re already washed and put in a cabinet. You can move them around if they’re not where you want them.”

“A saint,” Will repeats with a laugh. He eyes Hannibal at the other side of the couch, and slinks over to him to slide his leg over his hips. Hannibal adjusts his posture to make room for Will, who traps Hannibal against the back of the couch with his arms around his neck. The kiss is soft and gentle, but the press of their bodies together is anything but.

The kiss deepens while Will grips him through his shirt, running his fingers across the bulge of pecks stretching the material enticingly. “Will you stay with me tonight?” Will asks, trailing kisses down the column of his throat.

“I was hoping to,” Hannibal sighs, tipping his head back to allow Will to do as he pleases. “We need to christen the bed, after all.”

Will laughs while shifting his hips over him gently. They both sigh, and Hannibal’s hands grip his hips to urge him on. “We’re going to christen the whole house, I think,” Will rasps against his throat, and Hannibal moans.

“Not all in one night, I hope,” he laughs.

“Where is your sense of inspiration, Doctor Lecter?” Will asks teasingly while nipping his peck through his tee shirt. “You have to stop and ask yourself if you’re enjoying each task as you’re doing it. Are you enjoying this, Hannibal?”

Hannibal laughs at that, touching the side of Will’s face gently. “Very much, beloved.”

“So, we should make sure to include more of what you enjoy, then,” Will reasons with a playful smirk. “I know I am.”

Hannibal’s fingers slide under his tee shirt and skim up his sides as he slides it up and off Will’s body. Will arches against him as he takes a nipple into his mouth, suckling it gently while catching it in his teeth.

Will peels his shirt off him too, and it’s harder than it should be with how fitted the material is. It’s worth the effort though, to have all that lean golden muscle exposed. Will sighs as he pulls his fingers through his chest hair, tugging it gently. “Fascinated by that, are you?”

Will blushes. “I don’t… really have body hair. Obviously,” Will stutters. “It’s so fucking hot on you. You’re just… masculine. Gorgeous.”

“You look like a sculpture brought to life,” Hannibal muses, trailing his own fingers down Will’s smooth chest. “Michelangelo’s David comes to mind. Your skin, Will,” Hannibal leans forward to trace the ridge of muscle under his small pectoral. “It’s like silk. You’re divine.” The oven beeps from the kitchen, and Hannibal sighs. “I should check on our dinner.”

Will sighs, shifting his leg over to let him off the couch. He wonders if it’s rude to ask for dinner to wait, but Hannibal comes back after a minute. “It’ll stay warm on the stove for a little bit, I think.”

Hannibal takes Will’s ankle and pulls him flat against the couch so he can ease himself between Will’s thighs, slanting their mouths together again while Will chuckles. “I have lube upstairs in the bedroom,” he says softly while Hannibal trails his mouth down Will’s bare chest. “It’s never where we need it.”

Hannibal nips harshly at his abdomen, sucking a bruise against his stomach that makes Will hiss. “We won’t need lube,” Hannibal tells him, trailing his mouth lower to suck at his hipbones. “I want to taste you.”

Will arches his back at that, hesitating briefly. “I’ve been sweating all day, darlin’,” he reminds him. “How about we move to a shower, then? I’ve got two brand new ones waiting for someone to desecrate them.”

Hannibal doesn’t need any further motivation than that, and he pulls Will from the couch with a tug of his wrist, pulling him down the hall towards the main floor bathroom. Hannibal gets the shower going, and then they’re both stripping off their pants, kicking off their shoes, and tugging one another under the hot spray while their mouths clash and their fingers wander wet skin.

Hannibal soaps him up quickly, gripping his cock in his slippery hands while he jerks him teasingly, and Will moans into his mouth, gripping the damp hair at the nape of his neck. His soapy hands wander around Will’s hips, delving between the cheeks of his ass, and the soapy press of his fingers over his entrance makes him gasp into Hannibal’s mouth. He’s never been penetrated, but he wants Hannibal to be the one to do it. He can’t quite bring himself to ask, though.

Hannibal’s fingers soap him up and tease him at the same time, before rinsing him off under the spray of the water. Will feels bereft with the loss of his touch, but Hannibal turns him against the tile wall of the shower, dropping to his knees behind him.

Will finally understands what Hannibal meant when he said he wants to taste him.

He arches his back invitingly when Hannibal spreads his cheeks, and then there’s the feel of a hot tongue against him, licking at the muscle of his entrance softly and suckling him gently. Will moans loudly, slapping at the tile wall with a frustrated hand. The soft tongue licks him and presses into him, suckling and fucking his entrance greedily. It feels so fucking good, and at the same time it just doesn’t feel like enough.

It’s right on the edge of pleasure, skittering along the line of not enough and too much. One of Hannibal’s hands goes around his hip to jerk at his cock, mimicking the same pace in which his tongue plunges inside of his body. “Hannibal,” Will moans, rocking his hips into his fist, then back against his face. “Oh, God, please.”

The soft, wet, press of his tongue feels sinful with the glide of his stubble against his ass, and Will spreads his legs more, arching his spine in a blatant invitation to continue. Hannibal moans against him, leaning away to let go of his cock and press his fingers against his entrance. Will bucks against the fingers, unsure if he wants more or less of it. Hannibal decides for him, pressing his finger inside of his body gently while his tongue continues licking at his rim, suckling around his finger that’s sliding deeper and deeper into his body.

When the finger quirks up and finds that spot inside, Will almost collapses. He’s… pleasured himself this way before. It wasn’t like this, though.

It feels like Hannibal is eating him alive. His finger soon becomes two fingers, and Will doesn’t even know when that happened. He presses his face against the tile to cool his overheated face, rocking his hips desperately to get Hannibal to stroke that spot again, and Hannibal doesn’t disappoint. He flutters his fingers against it while licking obscenely around his entrance, and Will keens, moaning high in his throat while his hips thrust uselessly into the air. 

Hannibal’s other hand comes around to jerk at him again, and the pleasure of it is too fucking much. He comes, bellowing out into the small space of the shower and rocking desperately against Hannibal’s face while the gorgeous man continues stroking him through it and rubbing at that spot inside of him. It feels like he comes for hours, his body wrung out to the point of almost-pain.

Will slumps against the wall while Hannibal pulls away from him carefully, standing up behind him to wrap his arms around his waist and nuzzle at the nape of his neck. Will rolls his head back to rest against his shoulder while he pulls in extra air, his body still thrumming from the pleasure he’s received.

“Hannibal,” Will sighs, turning his face to demand a kiss that he’s given eagerly. 

“That was beautiful, beloved,” Hannibal says softly. 

Will reaches for the bar soap and slicks Hannibal’s generous erection, pressing it between his thighs where he clenches them tightly around him. Hannibal takes the hint, rocking into the tight space harshly, taking his pleasure while Will braces his hands against the shower wall again. The sounds of wet skin slapping fills the room, and Hannibal’s hands grip his hips as he thrusts into the space between his thighs, his mouth sucking harsh bruises against Will’s shoulders and back. Every forward thrust nudges Will’s balls, and it’s almost too much too soon, but Will wouldn’t dare say anything. 

He wants Hannibal to take from him. He wants Hannibal to use his body to find his pleasure. What he wanted was to suck that gorgeous cock, but he’s almost too sated and exhausted to consider it, even though the thought alone makes Will moan.

Will sets aside his own exhaustion, pulling away from Hannibal gently to turn around in the shower. Hannibal looks bereft, reaching down immediately to jerk at his own cock. Will goes to his knees, and Hannibal finally understands what Will wants.

Will cleans him of the soap on him, jerking him gently to rinse it off, and then he wraps his lips around him, sinking down in one fluid movement as he swallows him down his throat.

Hannibal moans desperately, lacing his fingers through Will’s wet curls. Will curls his tongue around him, loosening his jaw while looking up at Hannibal through damp lashes. The implication was clear. 

Hannibal grips his hair, fucking into Will’s mouth gently at first. It doesn’t take long before his cock is slamming harshly against the back of Will’s throat, and Will has to adjust his neck, figure out his breathing so he doesn’t choke. 

Hannibal’s little grunts and sighs of pleasure motivate Will to look up, and the dark, blown-out pupils coupled with his reddened, wet, mouth makes Will moan. Their eyes connect, and Hannibal fucks into his mouth roughly, hard enough that Will braces his palms against his strong thighs as he pumps down his throat.

The sheen of tears on Will’s eyes make it difficult for him to appreciate all that rolling muscle in Hannibal’s abdomen, but he gets the gist of how beautiful he is all the same. It’s barely a few minutes later when Hannibal bucks into his mouth, and his throat and tongue are coated in Hannibal’s spend while Hannibal continues thrusting into his mouth.

Will suckles him gently, coaxing the last of it into his mouth with eager sucks to his flesh, and Hannibal shivers over him, soothing the sting where his hand was tugging his hair with gentle fingers. He hauls Will up by his underarms, dragging him tight against his chest. Will grins as he swallows, trying to clear the little bit of pain in his throat. “Did I hurt you?” he asks softly.

“No,” Will rasps out. “It’s fine, Hannibal. I wanted you to.”

“I lost myself when you looked up at me,” he admits with a sigh. “I apologize.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” Will repeats more firmly, pulling away to kiss him softly. “I said I wanted you to. I wouldn’t have let you do it if you were hurting me.”

“Everything about you tempts me, Will,” he says softly, pressing the gentlest kisses to Will’s throat. “There are parts of me that should never be tempted. At least not by you.”

“You hold back,” Will replies, his voice gravelly and sore as he tries to clear his throat. Hannibal washes the rest of him quickly, his fingers worshipful on his skin as he soaps him up. “If you like it a little rough, I won’t be frightened away.”

Hannibal sighs as he turns him into the spray, rinsing him clean. “You don’t know what you’re asking. If I were to accidentally hurt you, I’d never forgive myself for it.”

Will debates that while he cleans Hannibal’s skin quickly, soaping up all those lovely muscles reverently. “I won’t push you, then,” he says eventually.

They get dressed and head back downstairs to have dinner, and Will isn’t sure what to make of the things Hannibal has admitted. He’s too afraid to ask.

The rest of their night is ridiculously pleasant. Dinner is amazing, and Will cleans up afterwards while Hannibal changes into a pair of Will’s old flannel pajama pants. The both of them are clearly exhausted, and Will takes his dogs outside after he feeds them each a can of dog food before he and Hannibal go to bed.

His new mattress is like a cloud, and he wraps himself around Hannibal’s body, settling out against him like liquid. Hannibal is already nodding off, and Will grins against his chest, kissing his sternum softly. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he knows he feels safe. Loved. The reverent fingers against his spine pull Will under. 

He wakes well into the night, but not from a nightmare. His chest is flush against Hannibal’s bare back, his arm wrapped around his narrow waist. Hannibal’s brief-clad bottom is resting fully against his hard cock, and Will barely thinks about it as he thrusts gently against him, rolling his hips sleepily while nuzzling against the nape of Hannibal’s neck. 

Hannibal stirs, arching sleepily against him, and Will lets his body do as it pleases. His hand roams up Hannibal’s chest, nestling into the soft chest hair, before trailing down to cup him through his briefs. “Will,” Hannibal sighs, and his voice is still gruff from sleep. Hannibal is half-hard and stiffening slowly as Will reaches into his boxers to stroke him gently. 

He lets him go only long enough to tug his own boxers down far enough to free himself, and he yanks at Hannibal’s until he’s mostly uncovered, as well. 

Will reaches back towards his end table where there’s a new bottle of lube, and he grabs at it, rolling back to press against Hannibal’s bare back. “Can I?” Will asks, and Hannibal sighs, nodding his head while arching against him. “Stay like this,” Will says softly while sliding Hannibal’s boxers off his hips and down his legs. He coats his fingers in some lube, reaching between their bodies to ease them inside of Hannibal’s relaxed body.

He’s pliant under Will, and his fingers slide in almost easily with only a bit of scissoring needed to open him up enough to take Will inside of him. He moans while Will preps him, and Will slides his other arm under his neck, pressing more fully against the beautiful back against his chest. Will works in a third finger, stretching him gently before slicking his own cock quickly.

He slides into Hannibal gently, and Hannibal brings his knees up to his chest, curling in on himself so Will can slide in more easily. Once he’s seated inside, Will urges him to stretch out while his mouth nuzzles at the nape of Hannibal’s neck, and his arm curls around his middle.

Hannibal arches against him as Will thrusts gently inside of him, a pleasurable thrum pulsing low through his abdomen. He’s so tight and wet around Will, and he turns his head in the crook of Will’s arm, tracing his fingers against Will’s jawline as he leans up for a kiss.

It’s soft and wet, and Will drags him tighter against himself, tracing his own fingers against Hannibal’s strong stomach as he presses more deeply inside of him. He grips Hannibal’s cock and strokes him in time with his lazy thrusts while their mouths drag and press, tongues searching and tasting languidly.

He’s so warm against Will’s chest, and his mouth is so pliant against his lips. His tongue and mouth taste of sleep, and his tired body lets Will do as he pleases. It’s strangely intimate to wake someone up for this, and Will’s never done it before. Never really felt the desire to. He usually wakes up and feels an inherent urge to get away. To shield himself from the intimacy of whatever he’s done with a partner that’s made him feel vulnerable in the first place.

So sliding into Hannibal’s willing body in the middle of the night is momentous for him. He doesn’t feel an urge to escape or hide from him. He only wants more of him, and the thought alone makes Will kiss him more deeply and thrust more forcefully. “Hannibal,” he sighs, trailing kisses down the pale column of his throat. The color of his skin in the moonlight coming from the window makes him look ethereal, glowing beautifully against the pale sheets on the bed.

Hannibal laces his fingers behind his head, gripping his curls gently to urge his mouth back to his own, and Will kisses him eagerly. Gently. Pouring everything his mouth just won’t say into the kiss.

Hannibal makes a desperate little noise in the back of his throat, thrusting his hips gently into Will’s palm, and Will strokes him more purposefully, thrusting a little deeper and aiming his cock against the spot that will take Hannibal over the edge. 

He comes beautifully, a graceful arch to his spine as his mouth leaves Will’s own, his lips parted and reddened from Will’s attention. The soft gasp from his mouth is Will’s name, falling like a prayer to Will’s ears. Will grips his hip, thrusting into him with short, deep, snaps of his hips, and his moan is low and long as he empties himself inside of Hannibal’s body. The beautiful man’s muscles are still contracting around him, milking him of his release as they settle back against the sheets. They’re both gasping as they claw closer, and Will tucks him tight against his chest, pressing kisses to his sharp cheekbone and his temple. 

Neither make a move to clean themselves up, neither particularly care enough to. Sleep comes again, and Will buries his face against the nape of his neck, breathing in his scent against his nose as he falls back to sleep.

Will wakes up alone the next morning, sighing and stretching lazily against his mattress. His whole bed smells like sex, and he chuckles as he turns on his side, dragging the pillow Hannibal used over to his face. It smells faintly of him still, and Will breathes deep, taking his scent into his lungs.

His bladder is the only thing that motivates him to get out of the warmth of his blankets. He heads downstairs after using the bathroom to find Hannibal dressed and his dogs fed, coffee brewed in his new coffee pot on the counter. 

Will smiles, wiping the sleep from his eyes as he pours himself a coffee, turning to Hannibal with a little grin on his face. “Did you sleep okay?” he asks.

Hannibal grins from his place at the counter, leaning his hip against it as he sips his coffee. “I slept very well, thank you.”

Will glances around his kitchen, sighing as he realizes there’s nothing to eat here. “I’ve got to do some groceries today,” he says regretfully.

“I was just realizing that, yes,” Hannibal says while glancing forelornly at the fridge. “I should be heading home. I have a few things to do myself before work tomorrow.”

Will nods, tipping his eyes away briefly. “I’ll see you this week, though?” he asks, and the hopefulness in his voice is almost embarrassing.

Hannibal chuckles, setting his coffee cup down in the sink to walk over to him. His hands come around Will’s waist as he leans down to kiss him, and Will sighs into it, lacing his fingers through his soft hair. Hannibal pulls away to lean his forehead against Will’s own, and he smiles softly. “I’d like to see you tomorrow after your first day of work,” he says honestly. “How about you join me for dinner afterwards? I’ll make us something good.”

“Everything you make is something good,” Will laughs, leaning forward to kiss him again. “I’d like that, by the way.”

“Good,” Hannibal sighs. He kisses Will again, his mouth soft and gentle as his tongue licks into Will’s mouth. The kiss feels like one someone would get before their lover left for war, and it makes Will laugh against his mouth, pulling away with a blush. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, darlin’,” Will says, licking his lips. “I don’t really know what time. I can call when I have a better idea.”

“Whenever you get there, Will,” he assures him as he steps away. “I won’t spoil.”

Will walks him out, kissing him one more time before he gets ready for the day.

He goes grocery shopping and heads back to his house, grinning as he steps into his living room. His day is spent in peaceful silence, enjoying the solitude he has before he starts his new job.

He washes his bedsheets again, because they’re… well, filthy. 

There was a very small desk in Hannibal’s storage unit, and Will sets it up in the upstairs spare bedroom with the two oak bookcases. He unpacks his books and gets them organized on the shelves, and then unpacks his fishing gear and gets it set up at the desk. 

It’s the perfect size for tying off lures, and Will puts all of the materials he has in the drawers and on the work top, setting it up for when he has time to work on them again.

The room looks… a little sad. It needs a good work lamp, curtains, and a rug, but that will come eventually.

Soon.

There are a few boxes of things that he’s bought from Hannibal’s unit, and he sorts through them curiously. One box is just kitchen gadgets and serving utensils, so he sets that aside to bring down to the kitchen for a wash before he finds a home for it.

Another box is an olive and cream throw blanket, and Will takes it out, fluffing it a bit. It’s still in great shape, it just needs a wash. Will hopes he doesn’t ruin the soft knit by washing it.

The other boxes are random things, brass and wood decorations that are mostly abstract things. Knickknacks, his Dad’s voice supplies in a southern drawl. He grins as he diddles with them, glancing around to figure out if he’d put them anywhere. He thinks he might. The brass statue of a stag catches his attention, and he thinks it’ll look nice on the mantle of the fireplace. 

He carries it downstairs and places it on the mantle, grinning at how rustic and perfect it looks there.

He wants to get his chimney cleaned and fixed so he can have fires in his fireplace, but that needs to wait, too. The list of things he needs to do makes him anxious, so Will distracts himself by making the dogs a pan of dog food, and then reheats leftovers from Hannibal for himself.

He has a big pot that he uses to make dog food, but no other pans for himself. He’d need those eventually, too.

After he eats, there’s enough of the stew left for him to take to work for lunch tomorrow, so he packs it up in a Tupperware container and washes Hannibal’s heavy, cast-iron pot. 

He gathers his notes and textbooks for the following day, getting them into his brown leather shoulder bag. He’s… nervous. His hands are jittering as he pours himself a whiskey, settling down to flip through his PowerPoint one more time. He checks for errors or typos, skimming over it while sipping his drink.

His leg bounces, and he’s got his cell phone out before he really thinks about it. “Hello beloved,” his soft voice greets warmly.

“Can you just…” Will sighs, gripping the phone tightly in his hand. “Can you just talk to me about something? Anything, really.”

Hannibal is silent for a moment. “You’re going to do well, Will,” he promises softly. “Once tomorrow is over, you’ll see that worrying over it like this was unnecessary.”

“You know me too well, I think,” Will chuckles. “Still, you could… I don’t know. Tell me something about you that I don’t know.”

Hannibal chuckles, the sound warm and deep over the phone. “Like what? Something deep, or something… whimsical?”

“Whimsical,” Will replies immediately. There would be plenty of time for deep conversations, none of which Will wants to happen over the phone. 

“I went to Boston once when I first got to the states,” he says eventually. “Have you ever been?”

“No,” Will replies, and Hannibal hums.

“It’s a distinct city. The accents, the perfect mix of old architecture and new combined effortlessly around a baseball stadium. Fenway Park,” Hannibal muses. “I was there for a medical convention, and I had no idea it was happening on the same weekend as a baseball game. There was a street vendor selling ice cream, and I stopped in a moment of weakness. Coffee ice cream,” Hannibal chuckles. “I had never heard of such a thing, so of course, I bought a waffle cone filled with it. It very well may still be my favorite dessert I’ve ever had.”

“Your favorite dessert is coffee ice cream?” Will asks with a laugh. “You’re kidding.”

“No,” Hannibal chuckles. “It was made with espresso, I believe. It was so good that I still think about it on occasion. I haven’t found anything quite like it since. That whole weekend was so… revelatory for me. I hadn’t felt that I was in a new country until that trip. The accents of the people around me were almost a different language. The hustle and bustle of the city was alarming. So many different cultures, and so many people from different walks of life. Europe is quite different. Everything is more relaxed and subdued. Boston is the exact opposite of everything I’ve ever encountered before. Yet, the coffee ice cream was the best I’ve ever had.”

Will is smiling against the phone, his eyes downcast shyly when he speaks. “I miss you already.”

“Oh Will,” Hannibal sighs. “I missed you the moment I was out the door.”

“Have you ever been to New Orleans?” he asks.

“I’ve never had the pleasure,” Hannibal admits, and Will can hear the smile in his voice.

“It’s an amalgamation of different cultures, too. Spanish and French are predominant, but it’s… romantic, somehow. It gets so hot in the summer that my partner Henri’s wife used to bake cookies in her car window.”

Hannibal laughs. “You’re joking.”

“Not at all,” Will chuckles. “It’s so humid it feels like you’re underwater. Everyone there just kind of… sweats. There’s no way around it. At night, the city comes to life. Jazz and blues music can be heard from the street. Henri was Creole and his wife was Cajun, from Canada. They’d invite me to all of their cookouts in the summer, and man, the food was good.”

“I was under the misapprehension that Cajun and Creole were interchangeable,” Hannibal replies.

“The food is similar, but it’s not the same,” Will explains, grinning against the phone. “Creole dishes tend to have a tomato base, while Cajun food doesn’t.”

“I’ll have to get a recipe for a good Gumbo,” Hannibal muses, and Will laughs. 

“And I’ll have to find a good coffee ice cream for you,” Will replies.

“An odd dinner and dessert combination,” Hannibal remarks, but there’s a smile in his voice. “I look forward to it. Unless you have a favorite dessert that goes better with gumbo?”

Will grins at that. “My favorite dessert in the world is peach pie,” he says with a little moan. “Peach pie served hot with vanilla bean ice cream. So damned good.”

“I suppose either dessert doesn’t specifically go with gumbo,” Hannibal muses.

“Did you get an Italian sausage while you were next to Fenway? I’ve heard they’re legendary.”

Hannibal laughs outright at that. “I considered it, but a Bostonian next to me told me that they were, and I quote, ‘wicked pissah,’ and I was so revolted by it that I did not end up buying one.”

Will’s full-belly laugh startles the dogs, and he bites his lip to contain it. “What the hell does that even mean?”

“I’ve come to learn since that it’s quite a compliment from someone in that area,” Hannibal chuckles. “Akin to meaning something is excellent.”

“Learning English must have been difficult,” Will realizes, scratching idly at his stubble. “I speak English, and I had no idea what that means. It depends where you are in the States, everyone has their own little catch phrases.”

“I’ve noticed,” Hannibal agrees with a laugh. “Do you feel more at ease, beloved?”

“Yeah,” Will replies easily. “I’m sorry if you were in the middle of something. I was… thinking of you.”

“I’m an incredibly gifted man who can manage a conversation while hanging his dry-cleaning. It’s no bother at all, Will.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” Will asks, settling out against his sofa. Hannibal’s old sofa.

“Yes,” Hannibal replies, and Will can hear the scratch of hangers against the rod. “After this, I’m going to sketch a bit before bed.”

“I should let you go, then,” Will says eventually. “I need to pick out something to wear for tomorrow, and I’ve got to put the dogs outside for a bit.”

“I’m glad you called, Will,” Hannibal says seriously, and Will smiles.

“Me too, Hannibal. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

“Till tomorrow. Good night, beloved.”

“Good night, darlin’,” Will replies, ending the call with a sigh. 

He’s in deeper than he thought. The warmth and stretch of his smile let him know it.


	12. Chapter 12

Will gets to the BAU early the next morning so he can find his classroom and learn how to set up his laptop to project his PowerPoint. He’s dressed nicely in a gray sweater and black slacks, and he’s opted to wear his glasses to shield him from anyone’s direct gaze. 

Alana finds him before his first lecture, walking into his classroom with a bright smile. “Will,” she greets warmly. “Nice to see you settling in.”

Will doesn’t know what to make of her searching him out, but he nods. “I just got here, Dr. Bloom,” he replies. “Haven’t settled at all, yet.”

“Call me Alana, please,” she says, and her tone is friendly. “We’re colleagues now.”

“What can I do for you, Alana?” Will asks as politely as he can.

She arches an eyebrow, smiling gently. “I figured I would come by to introduce you to the class. I was the one filling in before you took up the position.”

“Oh,” Will replies, adjusting the projector a bit. “I didn’t realize that.”

“Listen,” she says softly. “I know we didn’t get off on the right foot in our therapy, but I really am glad you’re doing better. Did you end up seeing another therapist after me?”

“No,” Will shakes his head, letting out an awkward laugh. “I had enough people digging around in my head, I didn’t want to invite anyone else to rummage through it, too. I am doing better, though.”

She smiles, but it’s a forced little thing. “I see that.”

A few students begin filing in, and Will takes stock of them whether he means to or not. They look hopeful, if not a little worried about a new professor in the middle of the semester. Once eight rolls around, Alana turns to them with an authoritative voice. “As of today, I will not be lecturing Criminal Psychology anymore. This is Will Graham; he will be your professor for the rest of the semester. Any further questions or concerns should be addressed to him from now on.”

She turns to Will with a little smile, “Good luck today. See you around, Will.”

He doesn’t bother with a response. He clicks on his laptop and begins his lecture.

His day goes by quickly and without much incident. His students are bright, if not a little too eager for praise. Lunch rolls around and he heads to the break room to reheat his delicious leftovers where he runs into Beverly. “Hey,” she says with a wide smile. “Will, right?”

He nods, settling out at a table with his container. “Beverly,” he says softly. “Nice to see you again.”

“Bev,” she replies, taking out her own lunch from the fridge. She sets her cottage cheese down on the table and opens her sleeve of crackers. “Damn. You’ve got something good to eat.”

“Leftovers, but yeah,” he agrees with a smile. 

“How’s your first day? Any of the students make you want to throw things?”

Will chuckles, turning to her in surprise. “Not yet anyway. It’s been good.”

“We were all really impressed with you that night with the Ripper vic,” she says absently. “For a new guy, you know your stuff. You didn’t flinch or puke at the sight, which is more than most can say at their first scene. Jimmy passed out at his, we love shit talking him about it.”

“Thanks,” Will replies awkwardly, maintaining eye contact with the table. “I was a cop in New Orleans a while back. I’ve seen a few crime scenes before that.”

“Oh,” she replies, and her smile is warm as she regards Will. “I won’t tell anyone that if you won’t. It makes you look better if that was your first scene.”

He laughs at that, glancing up at her in surprise. “I care very little about what others think of me.”

Her smile is hesitant as she looks at Will, as if she’s deciding something that Will doesn’t know about. “Still, having a few friends here won’t hurt you. Right now, everyone thinks the world of you.”

“You have no idea how strange that is to hear,” he chuckles. 

She glances down at his food again, sighing at her cottage cheese. “So can you make more of that for me? I’d appreciate you forever.”

“I’d have to ask my partner to do it,” Will confesses awkwardly. “I don’t know how to cook, really.”

“Partner?” she repeats with a sigh when Will nods. “All the cute ones are gay, married, or both. Can’t blame a girl for trying, right?”

He’s so startled to hear that she’s been trying to flirt with him that he laughs. “I could blame you for flirting with me of all people, but not for trying.”

“Is he cute?” she asks, and Will almost chokes on his lunch.

“Yes,” Will replies with a shy smile. Although cute isn’t the word he’d choose specifically to describe Hannibal. “Very.”

“And he can cook? Where do you find someone like that? The last guy I went on a date with took me to KFC and tried to grope me over a chicken bowl.”

Will blushes, glancing down at his food as Jimmy walks in. “I can’t work with him anymore,” he says in an exasperated tone. “He just… incites me.”

Bev grins, nibbling on her chive cottage cheese. “You two bicker like an old married couple. What’d he do this time?”

“He got immersion oil on the 40X lens of the microscope,” he says, his face aghast. “Again.”

“It was an accident,” Brian replies, coming into the room to dig his lunch out from the fridge. “I meant to slide to the 10X but slid to the 40X instead. It happens.”

Jimmy rolls his eyes as he gets his sandwich out. “Neanderthal. You could at least clean it.”

“Will, right?” Brian asks, and Will wishes he could sink into the floor as he nods. 

“Hey,” Jimmy says, still seething. “Nice to see you again. How’s your first day?”

“Good,” he replies evenly, and Bev touches his arm. 

“Maybe after lunch we could take you to the lab? Show you around?”

Jimmy nods enthusiastically around a mouthful of his sandwich. “Good idea,” he mumbles.

“Jack ever talk to you about that vic you came out to see?” Brian asks.

Will shakes his head. “I haven’t spoken to him since.”

“You were right,” Jimmy says after he swallows. 

“Vic was in customer service,” Brian interjects, and Jimmy glares at him.

“High end retail store that sells essential oils and upscale soaps,” Jimmy explains. “He worked there for five years.”

“Had a temper on him, too,” Bev interjects, glancing up at Brian. “Apparently, his coworkers thought he was a jerk.”

Will finishes his lunch, snapping the lid back on his Tupperware. “He was rude to the wrong guy, I guess.”

“I can relate,” Jimmy replies tartly, glaring up at Zeller with a murderous expression. “Maybe he put oil somewhere there should never be oil.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Brian sighs.

Will laughs. He doesn’t mean to, but it comes out anyway, and Bev giggles with him. “Sorry,” he sighs, tucking his lips between his teeth to keep from smiling.

“They’re just like this,” Bev assures him. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Eventually,” Jimmy says with a chuckle.

They show him the lab after lunch and Will… enjoys their company. It’s a strange feeling, as he’s never felt the desire to make friends where he works before. The last person to break through his prickly exterior was Henri, and that was over a decade ago. 

And Henri was gone, now.

Bev is ridiculously warm, even if it stems from a gently flirtatious place. Brian and Jimmy were strange ducks, but so was Will. He wouldn’t fault anyone for being different.

He heads back to his classroom with a small smile on his face. He finally feels like he’s right where he belongs.

Will gets to Hannibal’s house just after five, and he unlocks the door and lets himself in. Hannibal grins from his spot in the kitchen when Will walks in, glancing up briefly while chopping vegetables. “I adore that you feel comfortable enough to use your key.”

Will smiles softly, coming around the counter to wrap his arms around his narrow waist. He nuzzles into the fabric of the soft button-down, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “I had a really good day today.”

“I am glad, beloved,” Hannibal replies, setting his knife down so he could turn and press a kiss to Will’s mouth. “All that worrying for no reason.”

“I don’t usually do well with big changes,” Will replies, stepping out of Hannibal’s arms so he can take off his coat. “This was a very big change. It felt… good though. I got to see the lab after lunch. I spent some time with the lab techs there, and they’re all good people. Kind of a strange bunch, but… I like them already.”

“It’s fine to be weird,” Hannibal says with a chuckle as he resumes chopping what Will assumes are leeks. “Some of the most interesting people always are.”

“You’d like them, I think,” Will shrugs. “Bev is great, and Jimmy is probably one of the rarest kinds of good people left in the world. I can feel it on him, just… good. Honest. Brian is a little more difficult to read. He’s… not as friendly as the other two, but he’s not rude, either. My students are good, too.”

Hannibal is beaming as Will rambles, and Will blushes a bit, stalling out. “You seem surprised to have made a connection with them.”

“No,” Will shakes his head, considering what he wants to say. “I’m surprised that I want to.”

“Why is that?” Hannibal asks while pouring a glass of wine and handing it to Will, who takes it with a mumbled thanks.

Will sighs, sipping his wine for a minute. “My partner in New Orleans,” he says softly. “Henri. He welcomed me into his family, his life. I made it difficult for him. I didn’t want to make friends, but he pushed and pushed until I relented. He was worth knowing. He was like a father to me.”

“He passed?” Hannibal asks, pausing his hands in their task.

“Yeah,” Will replies, averting his eyes away from Hannibal’s own. “A massive heart attack. His wife moved back to Canada to be with her family. I lost… more than a friend when he died. I lost a second family. I intentionally didn’t make friends with anyone I worked with after that.”

“I’m very sorry, Will,” Hannibal says softly. “You’ve dealt with an extraordinary amount of loss in your life. I wish I could take it from you.”

“You have,” Will replies, looking back up to meet Hannibal’s eyes. “Just talking about him again with you eases the ache a bit. Being with you eases me. I don’t know if you understand how… huge that is.”

“I understand perfectly,” Hannibal replies, his hands resuming their crisp chopping against the cutting board. “I’ve never spoken about Mischa with anyone because I thought speaking of her would tear open old wounds. It’s not like that at all when I speak of her with you, though. It’s a relief, and it feels like breathing life back into her again.”

Will is thinking about the other thing he discovered while he was Googling him, and he decides now is the time to broach the topic. “So you were born in Lithuania,” he says conversationally, and Hannibal arches an eyebrow at him.

“Yes?” 

“You’re a… count?” Will asks hesitantly.

The slow smile from Hannibal is almost mocking. “Have you been Googling again?”

“I read it the last time, I just… got sidetracked,” Will admits awkwardly. “What does that mean, exactly?”

“It doesn’t mean much of anything anymore,” Hannibal admits with a shrug. “I am technically Hannibal Lecter the eighth. My father was a descendant of Hannibal the Grim, a warlord in the late 1300’s. He built our castle in Vilnius, Lithuania, and ruled over the county until his death in the early 1400’s. Some of my wealth comes from the ancestry of my father, but most of it was from my mother. She was a was descendant from both the Visconti and Sforza families, who separately ruled Milan for a total of 250 years.”

Will’s mouth had fallen open at some point in Hannibal’s history lesson, and he forcibly closes it. “So the count title is more a formality than anything?”

“Mostly,” Hannibal shrugs. “Even should I choose to live in the estate, castle, whatever you choose to call it, I wouldn’t be gaining wealth from my status there. The area is very poor, now. Does my title intimidate you?”

Will shakes his head, but then shrugs. “Kind of? I don’t know. Jesus, you’re something else entirely. It’s a little intimidating.”

“It shouldn’t be,” Hannibal assures him. “I spent a year in an orphanage after my sister passed. My title did not save me then, nor has it saved me from anything that’s happened. The only good thing about any of it was after my aunt managed to gain me access to the old accounts. I’ve lived comfortably, but I’ve paid very dearly for that comfort. It’s just money, Will. I can’t take it with me when I die.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Will says while glancing away towards the foyer.

“Nor did you,” Hannibal says seriously. “When I first realized just how rich I had become, I was paralyzed with indecision. I didn’t know whether I wanted to live a nomadic life, or if I wanted to settle down. I wanted an education but realized I truly didn’t need it. I inevitably decided I would live exactly as I wanted to, and generally pretend the money doesn’t exist. I’ve taken every class that interests me. I’ve gone to every city I’ve ever wanted to visit. None of it means very much of anything, not without someone with which to share it.” He glances up pointedly as he says it, and Will doesn’t miss his meaning at all.

Will smiles softly at that, sipping his wine while Hannibal smothers him in a piercing gaze. “You want some help?” Will asks, lifting the heaviness of the emotions in the room a bit.

“I’ve got everything perfectly managed I think,” he replies with a soft quirk of his mouth. 

“What’s for dinner, by the way?” Will asks as he comes around the counter again to lean against Hannibal’s shoulder.

“Pork medallions with leek and lemon sauce,” Hannibal says pridefully. 

“Wow,” Will grins, pressing a kiss to his bicep that’s straining his poor button-down shirt. “You know you could make me boxed mac and cheese and I’d be happy too, right?”

The little moue of distaste on Hannibal’s mouth makes Will laugh. “Nourishing your body with real food is the first step to health, Will. Powdered cheese product that’s loaded with sodium and chemicals will not sustain your body.”

“So, I shouldn’t tell you that I live off strawberry jam on toast usually, I guess?” 

“No wonder you have nightmares,” Hannibal teases, leaning his shoulder against Will’s briefly before resuming his cooking dance around the kitchen. 

Will decides to help him by cleaning up the few dishes and cutting boards as he cooks, much to Hannibal’s dismay. “I have a dishwasher, it’s not necessary.”

“I don’t mind it,” Will replies. “Besides, if I clean as you go, it’ll only be our dishes after we eat, and then I can enjoy your company.”

Hannibal’s cheeks redden with that, a pleased little quirk to his mouth as he simmers something delicious in a pan on the stove. “I’ve been meaning to ask you how you feel about attending a dinner party here on Friday night,” he says slowly, glancing at Will briefly.

“This Friday?” Will asks as his stomach turns a little bit. 

“Yes,” Hannibal replies. “A few colleagues of mine are coming for dinner, and I would like to introduce you to them.”

“I don’t…” Will sighs. “How many people, exactly?”

“Six, including the two of us,” He flicks his wrist to toss the vegetables in the pan, and Will watches the corded muscles of his forearm raptly. “It would please me immensely if you could join.”

“When you say colleagues,” Will says hesitantly, and Hannibal smirks.

“Two of them are psychiatrists,” Hannibal admits with a shrug. “The other is a friend from my residency at Johns Hopkins and his wife.”

“Two are psychiatrists,” Will echoes. “Names, please. I want to make sure they’ve never treated me.”

“Bedelia du Maurier and unfortunately, Frederick Chilton.”

Both names are not familiar, and Will shrugs awkwardly. “If it makes you happy, then I will be here.” The pleased little smile is almost worth the annoyance of being surrounded by vultures for the night. “Why invite Frederick if you can’t stand him?”

“It’s not that I can’t stand him,” Hannibal grimaces. “It’s that… he’s only in this field to make a name for himself. Treating patients is not high on his list, I suppose. He is a colleague, however. He called this afternoon and asked if he could speak with me about a patient at his facility.”

“His facility?” Will repeats. “Where does he work?”

“The Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane,” Hannibal replies and Will shudders.

“Who’s the other guy that’s coming?” Will asks with a groan.

“Donald Sutcliff,” Hannibal replies. “A neurologist that’s remained an acquaintance since my time at Johns Hopkins. He works at Noble Hills Care Center, now.”

“Are any of them people you consider a friend?” Will asks with an awkward chuckle.

“Bedelia, I suppose,” Hannibal replies. “She can be acerbic, but I find it refreshing on occasion.”

Hannibal begins plating their dinner with all the panache of a five-star restaurant. “I don’t want to embarrass you, Hannibal,” Will admits, averting his eyes towards the refrigerator. 

Hannibal pauses his hands, looking up at Will in surprise. “Why would you believe you would? I’m not ashamed of you, Will. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

Will follows Hannibal to the dining room where he sets their plates down with a flourish. Will sits to his left, avoiding eye contact while Hannibal pours more wine into his glass, then into his own. “I have never been to a dinner party that’s… I don’t know, elegant, I guess. I don’t know what fork is for what. I feel like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.”

Hannibal chuckles at that, sipping his wine as he reaches for Will’s hand. “I’m not concerned, Will,” Hannibal assures him. “Be yourself. If you’re uncomfortable, talk to me. No one will be rude to you, if you’re concerned about that. I wouldn’t stand for it.”

“I’m more concerned that I would be rude, actually,” Will chuckles. He reaches up and removes his glasses that he’s worn all day, rubbing absently at his eyes. 

“Are they prescription?” Hannibal asks while cutting into his pork. 

“No,” Will replies with a blush. “They’re… armor.”

“Shielding yourself from your students? Are they quite intrusive?” Hannibal wonders.

“Everyone is intrusive,” Will sighs. He cuts into the tenderest pork he’s ever had, and moans when it hits his tongue. “Delicious,” he says honestly.

“Am I intrusive?” Hannibal asks softly, glancing at Will meaningfully.

Will swallows the bite he’s taken, glancing up at Hannibal and holding eye contact with him. “You’re maybe the only person that I don’t mind being invaded by,” Will replies honestly. “Hannibal, I appreciate you. You know that. I was exhausted today, keeping everyone’s thoughts and feelings from my head. Being around people is… exhausting for me. You are not exhausting. Not in any way.”

The rest of their dinner is mostly silent, but it’s not awkward. Hannibal looks immensely pleased by Will’s admission, and Will feels lighter having told him, too. It’s a relief to have someone he can go to where he doesn’t need to keep his guard up. Someone who isn’t offended by his lack of eye contact or his surliness, sometimes. Hannibal doesn’t seem put off by any of his quirks, and it’s refreshing. 

Hannibal keeps a tight lid on his own emotions, and Will doesn’t need to build forts around him to keep him out of his head. He’s the first person who he wishes that weren’t true. He wants to know Hannibal. He wants to know all of him, but he can’t always get a read on him. Brief glimpses around the mask he wears, but nothing deep. Nothing further than the warmth he feels coming from him, sometimes.

They finish eating and cleaning up takes only a few minutes because Will kept up with the dishes while Hannibal cooked. Will presses him against the counter, gripping his narrow hips in his palms as he leans up for a kiss that Hannibal returns eagerly. “Thank you for dinner, darlin’,” Will grins against his mouth.

Hannibal laces his fingers through Will’s curls, deepening the kiss with a soft tongue and damp lips. Will sighs against him, trailing his fingers to his lower back so he can keep the gorgeous man flush against him. Hannibal pulls away, pressing a few more soft kisses to his cheek. “Anytime, beloved.”

“Will you play the harpsichord for me?” Will asks softly, trailing his bottom lip against Hannibal’s jawline. “Please?”

“How can I refuse you when you ask so beautifully?” Hannibal wonders, leaning forward to capture Will’s mouth with his own again. Will briefly doesn’t think they’re going to make it to the study, but Hannibal pulls away eventually. 

They head to the study, where Hannibal pours them each a finger or two of brandy before he settles at the bench, glancing at Will with a raised eyebrow. “What would you like to hear?”

“Something you’ve written,” Will smiles, settling against his side at the bench. “Should I get out of your way?”

“You’ll stay right where you are,” he requests with a soft smile. 

The song is… beautiful. Lilting and dark sometimes, light and melodic others. There’s a sense of longing to it that tugs at Will’s heart, and Will watches his long fingers caress the keys. His fingers are quick, traveling across the span of the entire harpsichord’s keys with confidence. 

The tune comes to an end, and it’s hopeful, somehow. Will feels somewhat silly for playing in front of him before, as Hannibal is ridiculously talented, and Will is… a novice, at best. He turns to Hannibal with his mouth parted, his eyes searching. “That was beautiful,” he says seriously, glancing down at Hannibal’s long fingers that are still resting against the keys. “It’s… hopeful, somehow. It started out so dark, but it feels like it became… sweeter, by the end.”

“Before you and after you,” Hannibal replies, his cheeks tinging pink with the admission. “I started the piece before I met you and finished it after you kissed me that night. It’s about you, Will.”

Will blushes with the admission, a heaviness in his gut urging him to lean forward and kiss him soundly. Hannibal reacts immediately, turning to him on the bench and gripping his face against his own, and the kiss grows deeper and more urgent. 

The fire crackles in the hearth behind them, mimicking the heat crackling between them harmoniously. Hannibal stands briefly to straddle the bench, facing Will fully without breaking their kiss at all. His lips trail down Will’s jaw as he lifts Will’s sweater, easing it from his body while gliding his fingertips against his skin. 

Will unbuttons his shirt slowly, kissing each inch of golden skin that’s exposed on the way down. He stands briefly to straddle the bench too, easing his thighs over Hannibal’s own as he presses their bodies together, gliding the shirt off of Hannibal’s broad shoulders. 

Their chests brush while they kiss, and the hair of Hannibal’s chest teases him, pebbling his nipples delightfully while their mouths meet and clash, tasting and worshipping against one another’s.

Hannibal undoes his belt and unbuttons his slacks, sliding the zipper down so he can ease his hand inside Will’s slacks, pulling him gently out. His fingers wrap around him, gliding over him deftly, and Will moans against his mouth, gripping the hard flesh of his shoulders desperately.

Will fumbles with Hannibal’s belt and button, easing him from his slacks and briefs with a shaking hand. Hannibal groans into his mouth as Will wraps his fingers around the both of them, stroking them gently in his palm while they trail kisses across each other’s jaw and throat. Hannibal eases back on the bench, and Will makes a small noise of protest in his throat at the distance between them. 

Hannibal eases Will’s hands from them, watching Will’s eyes as he glides his foreskin back, revealing the damp head of his cock. Will groans while his mouth waters, and his mouth falls open as Hannibal takes Will’s cock and lines up their wet heads, pressing their slits together deliciously. Will lets out a desperate little noise as their cockheads slip together sinfully, pleasure surging through his gut at how intimate this is. 

Hannibal grips them in his palm as he eases his foreskin back over himself, and then over the head of Will’s own cock, and he moans low and loud over how ridiculously fucking hot it is to be engulfed by Hannibal this way.

He can’t take his eyes away from it as Hannibal grips their heads, easing the foreskin over them and jerking them gently. It’s so fucking wet from their combined precum, the sound of it lurid and moist over their combined, harsh, breathing. “Do you like this, Will?” Hannibal asks, and his voice is molten and deep, rumbling from his chest.

Will lets out a desperate little grunt of approval, watching his cock disappear inside of Hannibal’s skin. Their cockheads slip together while encased in the warmth of Hannibal, and Will resists bucking into it while flames of pleasure lick up his abdomen. 

“Oh, God,” Will moans, leaning over their joined cocks to lick into Hannibal’s mouth.

Hannibal kisses him back desperately while his wrist picks up the pace, gliding over the both of them and creating the needed friction they both need. Their combined come is leaking around them, moistening Hannibal’s hand as he jerks them expertly, and Will breaks the kiss to moan, dropping his head back while Hannibal nips at the column of his throat. 

Will can feel his orgasm coming, and he doesn’t want to, yet. It feels so fucking good. So fucking intimate to be inside of Hannibal this way. Hannibal must be close, too, because he adjusts their cocks, and Will slides out from him miserably as Hannibal inches closer, gripping them both in his palm again and jerking them roughly.

Will spills between their bellies, arching his back as he empties between them. Hannibal swallows his moans with his mouth, before he spills between them, too. The sharp, desperate little cry from his throat urges Will to latch his mouth over his Adam’s apple, nipping the skin harshly as he comes between their bodies.

Will smiles against his throat as they both come down from their release, suckling the skin of his neck gently to taste the salt and flavor of him. His cologne soothes Will a bit, and Will breathes him in, pressing kisses to his jaw as he travels back to his mouth. 

Will nips at his bottom lip harshly, pulling away to look up into his dark eyes. “Have you done that before?”

Hannibal chuckles, closing his eyes briefly and leaning his forehead against Will’s own. “No,” he replies softly. “Would you be angry if I had?”

“Yes,” Will admits with a growl, gripping his hips to slide them closer together. “I would be fucking livid, Hannibal.”

“Possessive creature,” Hannibal muses, kissing him briefly again. “I take it you’ve never done that, either?”

“Didn’t even know it was a thing,” Will laughs. “Fuck, that was hot, though. Does it hurt you?”

“Not in the least,” Hannibal assures him, pressing his lips against Will’s cheek. “We’ve made a bit of a mess, though.”

Will glances down to note that their stomachs are covered in come, and their slacks are possibly ruined. “Worth it,” he chuckles.

They head to the bathroom to clean up before settling back on the couch in the study, sipping their brandy while enjoying the warmth of the fire. Hannibal tugs Will’s feet into his lap, shucking his shoes off so he can rub his socked feet. Will chuckles, fidgeting a bit. “Ticklish?” Hannibal asks with a laugh.

“A little,” he admits with a sigh. Hannibal’s fingers press a little harder, and the result feels better, more relaxing. “I’ve got to head home soon,” he groans. “My poor dogs have been home alone all day. They’re not used to that. Walt used to come home after school and take care of them, so this is a long time for them.”

“You very rarely talk about him,” Hannibal notes, glancing up from his foot briefly. “Will you miss him?”

“No,” Will chuckles, and Hannibal raises a surprised eyebrow. “Tom made sure that kid knew I was a weirdo, and he hated me. I tried to connect with him in the beginning. I was taking him fishing right up until the end, actually. He wasn’t interested, though. He liked video games and football. I had nothing in common with him.”

“Would you like to have children of your own one day?” he asks, and Will blushes when he shakes his head. “Why not?”

“There’s a chance they’d have the same empathy disorder that I have,” Will replies softly, averting his eyes to the fireplace. “I wouldn’t wish this on anyone in the world, let alone my own flesh and blood.”

They’re silent for a few minutes after that. Hannibal continues rubbing his foot absently, trailing his fingers up to his ankle then back again. “What about you? Do you want kids?”

“No,” Hannibal replies immediately. “My sister was my charge for a time after my father passed. The responsibility of it was immense, and she died regardless of my care. I do not want that again.”

The heavy regret that Will feels on him is almost suffocating, and Hannibal realizes his guard is down when Will makes a little noise in his throat. The feeling goes away completely, and Hannibal turns to him with a regretful expression. “I apologize,” he says softly.

Will shakes his head, dragging himself closer so he can wrap his arms around Hannibal’s waist. “Don’t hide from me, please,” he pleads. “Stop putting up walls and let me see you.”

Hannibal’s eyes are dark as they stare out at the fireplace, the firelight catching and glinting in his amber eyes. His jaw is tight while he considers that, and then raw grief is washing over Will like a wave. Will groans through it, leaning forward to kiss his jaw, then the corner of his mouth. 

Hannibal leans into it, allowing Will to soothe him. “I’m thankful for you, Will,” he whispers softly, turning his face to catch Will’s lips briefly with his own. “So thankful.”

Will smooths his fingers over his forehead, sweeping his bangs away from his face. Hannibal’s eyes are intently watching his own, and he quirks his lips up in a little smile. “The day I met you, I left your office and I was… shocked by how well you seemed to understand me. Every day with you since has been like that. I’m thankful for you, too. You’re a good man, Hannibal. I don’t know why you picked me to start showing it, but I’m thankful.”

Hannibal leans forward to kiss him again, and Will deepens it, letting his lips show how he feels about him in a way that he just can’t with words, yet. 

Will pulls away eventually, resting his forehead against Hannibal’s. “If I didn’t want to leave before, I really don’t want to leave, now,” Will laughs.

“Go take care of your dogs, beloved,” Hannibal sighs. “However, I most likely won’t see you again until Friday, now. I go to the gym on Tuesday evenings, Wednesday I have appointments until seven, and Thursday I need to go shopping for our dinner on Friday.”

Will grins, leaning forward to kiss the pout from his mouth. “You can call me,” he reasons. “I liked talking to you on the phone last night. Just hearing your voice is enough.”

“I wish I were so easily pacified,” Hannibal muses with a little grin. “I’ll miss you.”

“Oh, I didn’t say I wasn’t miserable about not seeing you,” Will laughs. “I just mean if nothing else is possible, you’d better call me.”

“I wasn’t aware you were demanding it,” Hannibal chuckles. “It pleases me that you are.”

Will removes his feet from Hannibal’s lap and untangles his limbs from around Hannibal’s waist. He puts his shoes back on, and when he stands, Hannibal follows him to the foyer. Will contains his smirk when Hannibal puts his coat on for him, turning him in his arms by the collar to plant a kiss on his mouth. “I’ll be in touch, Will.”

Will kisses him again for good measure before he leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels so good to write Team Sassy Science, who will be regularly occurring characters in this story from here on out. ALSO my first time writing docking. JESUS. who am i?


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🟥🟥🟥 TRIGGER WARNING. 🟥🟥🟥
> 
> Will is about to be included on a few cases that involve rape/homicides. I've tried not to be graphic about it, but if this is NOT something you want to read about, I want to make sure you're aware of it before reading. 
> 
> As I've said, I talk about what happened with them, and Will has a few vivid nightmares that it's happening to him. I've tried my best to keep it vague. Read with caution if you are triggered by this. Thank you, constant readers.

The next afternoon Jack finds Will in the breakroom, and he walks in hesitantly. “Sorry I never came to welcome you yesterday,” he says gruffly.

“Oh, it’s fine,” Will assures him. “I, uh, had the tour. Bev, Jimmy, and Brian were very nice.”

“That’s good,” Jack nods. “We have a case that I’d like you to take a look at tonight after your final lecture, if you’ve got the time.”

“Sure,” Will agrees easily. “Should I find you in your office?”

“That’s perfect. Thanks, Will.”

Will eats his sad lunch of peanut butter and jelly before going to his afternoon lecture.

He goes to Jack’s office after four, knocking hesitantly before being welcomed in. “Thanks for coming,” Jack says politely while waving his hand towards the chair. “Have a seat, please.”

Will sits across from him, adjusting his glasses on his nose. “What can I do for you?”

Jack slides a folder over to Will, who opens it immediately. “We’ve had a series of three rape homicides,” he says softly. “We’ve got DNA, bite marks, you name it. The guy has no priors, no history with arrests. He’s left us everything we need to convict him, right down to fingerprints. How do we catch someone like this?”

The crime scene photos are… appalling. Will flinches while looking at them, his face heating with the thought of dying that way. “All three look very similar,” Will notes, and Jack nods. 

“Brown hair, brown eyes, and thin,” Jack agrees. “The first victim was Grace Beaumont, 23. Stepped out from her dorm on a Friday night two months ago to visit a friend. She made it to the friend’s house, and it looks like she made it back to her dorm. No witnesses, no suspects. We interviewed at least thirty people at the college, and all of her friend’s neighbors. No one saw a thing, no one heard a thing. She was found Monday night on the side of the highway. Time of death was estimated to be about 24 hours before.”

Will flips to her file, glancing through it. “There were signs of dehydration?”

“Yes,” Jack replies. “Nothing in her stomach during the autopsy either. Meaning he kept her for at least a day to rape her before he cut her.”

“She was raped multiple times,” Will notes, and his stomach turns as he looks at the wounds on her.

“Yes, unlike the other two,” Jack sighs. “Delia Barros was his second victim. He cut her wrists and ankles before he raped her. It looks like he cut her, and then let her think she could run. As she bled out, he caught her and… well, assaulted her as she died.”

“Fuck,” Will breathes, closing the file as a bright stab of pain laces his temples. He was empathizing with the victims, and he had to get himself into check. “The other victim?” he asks while rubbing his temple.

“Shirley Allard,” Jack replies. “Killed in the exact same way as Delia Barros.”

Will nods, swallowing a lump in his throat harshly. “Okay, so the first victim is the one that isn’t like the others. She’s… different, for him. We need to figure out why, and that’s how we catch him.”

“And how do we do that?” Jack wonders, rubbing his own temples in search of relief. 

Will shakes his head, gnawing on his bottom lip. “I have to think about that. It could be that she was special. It could also be that he’s escalating. Were the other two college girls?”

“One was,” Jack nods. “Delia went to a community college downtown, but she lived at home with her parents. Shirley worked at a coffee shop. Both went missing possibly as they were walking to their cars.”

“Where was Grace’s car?” Will wonders.

“At the college campus,” Jack sighs. “We looked into that, Will. No cameras caught a thing.”

“Great,” Will says, sucking his teeth as he thinks. “Boyfriends?”

“Grace was seeing a Gregory Maskell, DNA doesn’t match. Delia was engaged to a Gary Riley, his DNA doesn’t match, either. Shirley was dating a woman, Patricia Rudkin. She goes to college across the city. We also interviewed an ex of Grace’s, Charles McCarthy. His DNA doesn’t match, either.”

“Alright,” Will sighs. “What’s his timeframe?”

“About three weeks between each of them,” Jack says, swiping a hand across his face. “Shirley was found two weeks ago as of yesterday.”

“Fuck,” Will replies, leaning forward to stare at the photos on the desk. “We need to think outside the box, here.”

“Yeah,” Jack agrees. “How is he picking them? Is he a college student?”

Will shakes his head, grimacing down at the photos. “Unlikely,” Will replies. “His bite marks show he’s missing a tooth. His left incisor. I think he’s older. Did we investigate maintenance people at the colleges? Janitors, lawn guys, people like that?”

Jack nods. “Several of them have iron clad alibis, the ones that didn’t willingly submitted DNA samples. No one matches up.”

Will drums his fingers on the desk, thinking. “This is horrible to ask, but did we look into her family? Her Dad?”

“We did,” Jack groans. “It is fucked up, but it wasn’t him. He was away for the weekend with his wife. Went to Virginia Beach to a cottage they own.”

“Alright,” Will sighs. “Can I take this?” he asks, holding up the folder. 

“Please,” Jack mutters. “I can’t fucking look at it anymore.”

“I might have more questions,” Will warns him. “I’ll call you if that’s alright.”

“Go ahead,” Jack agrees easily. “Day or night, Will. We’ve got to catch this asshole.”

Will brings the file home with him, and his night terrors start again that same night.

He wakes up in his yard, sweating and cold at the same time. Terror is laced up his throat, and his feet ache from running bare foot through the field. He scrubs a hand across his face and treks back towards his house, shivering and sore.

His dreams were violent. Horrible. He slides into the role of the victims with frightening ease. He climbs into his shower and sets the dial to scalding, scrubbing his nails over his dirty skin, attempting to clean it of the filth that he feels has accumulated there. 

It’s barely three in the morning, and he’s not going back to sleep.

He makes coffee and feeds his dogs, putting them outside for a bit while he pours over the files. He can’t see the killer because he’s empathizing with the victims. He grows frustrated with himself, snapping the file closed and settling on his sofa.

The rest of the day drags on, and he’s absolutely exhausted by the time he comes home later that night. For self-preservation, he handcuffs himself to his bed by one wrist before falling asleep.

He wakes up screaming, trying to claw his arm away from the danger he’s feeling in his dream. His wrist is bloodied and raw, and his shoulder is throbbing from dragging his bed across the room by his wrist. He uncuffs himself and takes care of his wound, noting it’s not even one in the morning. He can’t keep up like this, and he feels guilty when he calls Hannibal.

It rings only a few times before a groggy voice answers. “Will,” he sighs. “Are you alright, beloved?”

“I’m having night terrors again,” he replies, and his voice breaks as he confesses it. “There’s a case I’m working on, and it’s… bad. It’s bad, Hannibal.”

“Are you sleepwalking?” Hannibal asks.

“Yes,” he replies. “I woke up in the field by my house last night. To prevent myself from doing it again, I handcuffed myself to my bed tonight. I woke up screaming and clawing at my own arm.”

“Will,” Hannibal breathes. “What is it about this case?”

“I’m empathizing with the victims,” Will grits out, tugging at his hair in frustration. “I can’t see the killer because I can’t get out of their heads.”

“Talk to me about the case then,” Hannibal offers, and Will shakes his head even though he can’t see it.

“I can’t,” he sobs, his voice breaking. “I just can’t. I don’t know why I called. I’m so sorry.”

“Will, please,” Hannibal sighs. “Don’t hang up.”

“Just talk to me,” Will pleads. “Tell me something. I don’t even care what, I just want… I want to hear you.”

Hannibal lets out a breath, and Will knows he’s thinking of something. “I shouldn’t tell you this, but it’s all I can think of at the moment,” he chuckles. “I have a patient and his significant other whom I’m treating,” he begins.

“Oh boy,” Will sighs. “Breaking doctor-patient confidentiality. It must be good.”

“I won’t use names,” Hannibal replies defensively. “However, it’s gotten to the point where a referral may be in order. He’s harmless, I know, but he… flirts with me. He’s attended operas and galas where he knows I’ll be. His partner seems just as awkwardly enamored by me and does nothing to dissuade Fra- his partner’s flirtations.”

“Sounds like harassment,” Will replies with a scowl.

“I’d agree, except he’s just… harmless. Besotted. He annoys me in a way that I can’t even begin to grasp, yet he’s never rude. Just… enthusiastic. Today he informed me that he noticed me at the grocery store last week. He noted that I was shopping for cheese, and told me that he and I are, and I quote, ‘cheese folk’.”

Will laughs. He’s over-tired, sleep deprived, and it just strikes him as funny. Hannibal and his besotted patient. Cheese Folk. He laughs until he cries. “Oh, wow. What did you say?”

“I’m not sure I said anything. I was… riveted. He then called out his partner for his lactose intolerance, alluding to our kindred souls because we can both enjoy a good baked brie without flatulating.”

“His partner doesn’t say anything?” Will asks, still giggling.

“No, he just… stares. He stares at my knees, of all things. Always. I wish he’d stare at anything else, really. He makes me more uncomfortable than his partner, and that’s truly saying something.”

“Christ,” Will laughs. “You do have nice knees, though.”

“Will,” Hannibal sighs, and it’s martyred. “He then proceeded to cry because he felt he could have been friends with Michael Jackson and prevented his death had he known him. They would have been friends, kindred cheese folk, if only their stars had aligned.”

“You’re making this up,” Will laughs, petting Winston on his soft head as he noses at Will’s legs. 

“I assure you,” Hannibal says gravely. “I am not. You can’t imagine how much I wish I could confess this was a fabrication.”

“There are people worse off than I am,” Will notes with a mild pulse of relief through his limbs. “That makes me feel better, weirdly.”

“My patient is much worse than you could ever be,” Hannibal assures him.

“Oh, I didn’t mean your patient,” Will grins, biting his lip. “I meant that you’re worse off than me. I at least don’t have to deal with that shit in my day.”

“Thank you for reminding me of that,” Hannibal chuckles, and the sound is warm. Rich. Will wishes he were here so he could press his ear to his sternum and hear it rumble through his chest.

“If it’s true love, I’ll step out of the way,” Will teases. “Who am I to interfere with kindred cheese folk?”

“I’ll hang up on you,” Hannibal warns him with a laugh. 

“You wouldn’t,” Will chuckles, scratching behind Winston’s ear. “Although I should let you go. I feel… better.”

“Will you get some rest?” Hannibal asks, and there’s genuine concern in his voice.

“I don’t know,” Will replies honestly. “I won’t be looking at the folder again. I think I’ll read a little bit. Fall asleep if I can. Thank you, Hannibal.”

“You can call me anytime, Will,” Hannibal replies. “I’m here for you.”

“I know you are,” Will sighs. “I’ll call you tomorrow night. At a reasonable time.”

“Goodnight, beloved. Please try and get some rest.”

“I’ll… try,” Will agrees awkwardly. “Goodnight, darlin’.”

He hangs up, and his house instantly feels colder. Darker.

He turns on all the lights and brews some coffee before settling out on the couch with his dogs.

Thursday goes by just as miserably, and he’s feeling how little sleep he’s getting at this point. Jack finds him at lunchtime to ask if he’s looked at the file, if he’s gleaned anything new.

Will feels discouraged when he admits that he has looked at it, but he hasn’t gleaned a God damned thing from it. Jack looks mildly frustrated by that, but he thankfully makes no comment as he leaves Will’s new office. 

He doesn’t know why he can’t see this killer. He can practically leap into the mind of the Ripper, but this man… this monster feels repulsive. He thinks it might be the sexual assault aspect of the killings, but he’s not sure. The Ripper flays people alive, and that should be just as repulsive as what this killer does.

It’s weirdly not, though.

The thought makes Will’s skin crawl as he realizes he’d prefer looking into a Ripper killing when compared to this. At least the Ripper’s victims were assholes in life. These girls… they didn’t deserve what happened to them.

Another thought that makes his skin crawl in shame. No one deserves a death like the Ripper doles out. 

He drives home after work and he feels weirdly absent from his body. He’s overtired and worn down, and he needs sleep. He knows he won’t get it, though.

He grades papers until just after seven, then takes his dogs outside for a little walk. His stomach growls as he heads back into the house, and he heads into his kitchen to make some toast with strawberry jam when his doorbell rings.

He has a faint wave of apprehension that it might be Jack coming to talk about the case. He’s in absolutely no mood for it right now.

He swings his door open hesitantly, and he’s greeted with the extremely welcomed sight of Hannibal, smiling with his arms full. “Hi,” he says softly, swinging the door open to let him in. His smile is soft as he watches Hannibal come into his home, dropping his armful of things to the chair so he can take off his coat. “I thought you were busy today?”

Hannibal hangs his coat and turns to Will with a warm smile. “I went shopping and found I still had some time to spare. I’ve brought a change of clothes for tomorrow. I’ll leave for work from here if that’s acceptable.”

Will steps up to him to lean in for a kiss, and Hannibal returns it softly. His fingertips are gentle against the sides of Will’s jaw, and Will grips him tighter to himself, tilting his head to deepen it. He knows Hannibal is here because he’s worried about him, and he’s simultaneously flattered and embarrassed by it.

“You brought a lot of stuff for a sleepover,” Will chuckles between soft kisses.

“I brought some things to make dinner, if you haven’t eaten yet.”

Will blushes, and Hannibal kisses the heat of his cheek. “I was just about to have some toast and strawberry jam.”

The little huff of annoyed breath against his face makes Will laugh. “That’s not dinner, Will. If you aren’t sleeping, you should at least eat real food.”

He steps away from Will to gather the things on the chair, heading to the bathroom first to hang his slacks and sweater for tomorrow.

The large plastic tote he has is filled with a few new pans, and Hannibal glances up at Will hesitantly. “I bought you a few skillets and pans,” he says cautiously. “I know you only have your dog food pan, and I need more than that to cook here. I bought them for me, Will. Don’t be indignant.”

Will debates arguing about it, but he can’t, really. He needed pans, and now he has them. There’s only three of them, he reasons. He shrugs, biting his lip gently. “I’m not mad about it. Thank you.”

Hannibal puts together their dinner quickly, as it’s simple enough. Lemon glazed salmon with sauteed spinach and savory sweet potatoes. Will knows he picked this meal because it’s ridiculously nutritious, and the beautiful man is worried about him. They settle out at the dining table, and Will moans as he takes a perfect bite of flaky salmon. “Thank you so much for this,” Will sighs. “For coming, for cooking. You’re absolutely perfect.”

“So very far from it,” Hannibal laughs, but his eyes are fond. “I’m glad you’re happy, though.”

Will fidgets for a moment, dragging his fork through his spinach. “I might wake you up tonight. It won’t… It won’t be pleasant, Hannibal. I can be violent when someone tries to wake me up in the middle of it.”

Hannibal finishes his bite of food, glancing at Will with a gentle smile. “How fortunate for us both that you’re involved with a psychiatrist who knows precisely what to do when someone is in the grip of a night terror. It won’t frighten me away, beloved.”

Will isn’t sure he believes that, but he lets the matter drop while he eats his dinner. Will helps him clean up before they both change into pajamas for bed. Will wears a tee shirt, and his exposed wrist catches Hannibal’s attention. Will blushes as he takes his arm, turning it gently to look at the chafing, bruising, and claw marks. “This was a poor decision on your part,” Hannibal sighs.

“Would it have been better to go for a midnight run through the woods?” Will asks, and his tone is clipped. “I don’t have anyone here that’s going to drag me back to the house anymore.”

“You have me tonight,” Hannibal replies dryly. “Would you like to discuss the case with me?”

“No,” Will says immediately, shaking his head. “What I want is to lay with you in bed. I want you to kiss me until I fall asleep. I want your heartbeat under my ear. That’s all I want.”

Hannibal kisses his temple, breathing him in at his hairline. “I can do that,” he sighs, and his lips brush against Will’s temple. “Gladly.”

They climb into the bed, and Hannibal wraps him in his arms, rolling them over until he’s half on top of Will, pressing soft kisses to his jaw, then his cheek. Will sighs as their mouths come together, the kiss as soft and gentle as Hannibal’s roaming hands are against his chest. The kiss grows deeper and more purposeful, and Will moans as Hannibal shifts against him, drawing their bodies closer together.

He didn’t think he’d be in the mood for this, not with how tired he’s been. But Hannibal feels incredible against him, and Will aches for him. There’s an unreasonable part of him that thinks he’ll be able to sleep through the night after good sex with his perfect man, but he knows that’s not true. The darkness creeps in no matter how much he fights against it.

“Will,” Hannibal sighs against his throat as Will grips him through his pajama pants. The rigid flesh twitches against his palm, and he grips it a little tighter, stroking him through the fabric. “Maybe not tonight? You need to rest.”

“Please,” Will sighs, leaning forward to capture his lips in a damp kiss. “Please, Hannibal.”

“I’d never deny you anything,” Hannibal says lowly, dragging his lips down Will’s throat. “How could I? Beautiful man.”

Will lets out a desperate little whimper at that, arching sinfully against Hannibal’s hip. “Lube,” Will grits out. “Side table drawer.”

Hannibal reaches for it immediately, gathering the tube and placing it to the side of their hips. He lifts Will’s shirt from his body, trailing hot fingertips up his sides as he drags it off. “What do you want, Will?”

“You,” Will replies breathlessly. “I want to be inside of you.”

Hannibal pulls Will’s nipple into his mouth, laving it softly with his pointed tongue. He trails his mouth to the other one, gifting it with the same attention before pulling away to shuck his own tee shirt from his body. Will rolls them over, pressing Hannibal’s shoulder down so his stomach lays flat against the bed. He tugs his own pajama pants off, then crawls between Hannibal’s thighs, tugging his down his hips, too. 

His back is a gorgeous expanse of bronzed skin covering lithe muscle. His spine dips invitingly, swelling up again to the most delicious ass Will has ever seen in his life. “You are breathtaking,” Will sighs, trailing his mouth down the tempting dip in his back. “I wish I could sketch like you do, because I’d want to capture you like this… gorgeous.”

Hannibal tips his face against the pillow, and Will sees the gentle curve of his smile on his lips. “I could draw myself for you, however narcissistic that may be.”

Will laughs, nipping his ass cheek between his teeth. “I’m considering asking you to do it. If for no other reason than to see if you really would.”

“Like I’ve said, I’m not inclined to deny you anything,” Hannibal chuckles. 

Will taps at his thighs, urging him up to his knees and Hannibal submits readily. Will trails his mouth to the base of his spine, licking downwards with intentional, deliberate, swipes of his tongue. He laves gently against Hannibal’s entrance, licking into him softly while suckling the muscle with his lips. Hannibal moans under him, arching his spine deliciously while spreading his thighs a little more. “I’ve never really wanted to do this to anyone,” Will confesses, pressing soft kisses to his lower back. “I crave you. It’s relentless, Hannibal.”

Hannibal groans as he presses his tongue just inside of him, curling it around the rim of muscle. “Will,” Hannibal sighs, gripping the sheets in his hands desperately. 

Will grins against him, sealing his mouth around his entrance and fucking into him with the tip of his tongue. The muscle flutters around his tongue, as if trying to pull him in. Will grips himself in his palm, stroking his cock gently to relieve the mounting tension that’s rising in him. 

He pulls away regretfully. He wants inside of him, and if it keeps up like this he won’t last. He reaches for the lube and slicks his fingers, tracing them around Hannibal’s entrance teasingly. The beautiful man under him sighs, tipping his hips towards his fingers pointedly, and Will chuckles as he breaches him with a finger, stretching him gently. “Demandingly beautiful thing,” Will grins.

“Gorgeous tormenting creature,” Hannibal counters, pressing back against his finger. “More, Will.”

Will eases another finger inside, curling them upwards to drag against his prostate gently. The reaction is immediate, and Hannibal groans, dipping his hips towards Will’s fingers again. He scissors his fingers, stretching him possibly too quickly before adding another finger, and Hannibal grunts. “Will, come on.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Will chuckles. 

“You won’t,” he pants against the bed while Will strokes his prostate precisely. “Fuck me, Will. Please,” he begs. “Please.”

Will won’t deny him a thing anymore. He shifts to his knees, slicking his cock with a bit more lube before he presses in. He’s still so fucking tight that when Will pops past the ring of muscle has to stop because he’s already feeling close. Hannibal undulates against him, rolling his hips back as Will thrusts his forward, sliding Will to the hilt in one swift movement.

Will doesn’t give him a minute to adjust, he slides back out immediately and sinks back in, aiming his best for Hannibal’s prostate with each slide of his cock. Hannibal cries out, crawling up to his elbows while Will fucks into him with hard, deep thrusts. Will grips his hips desperately, tugging him back as he thrusts forward, driving into him hard enough that Hannibal inches up the bed with each snap of his hips. 

It feels wildly good. Will hasn’t fucked anyone like this, and the roughness of it quells something in him. Something primal that demands he mark Hannibal as his. His hips snap ruthlessly as he pounds into him, and Hannibal’s desperate grunts and sighs urge Will on. “Will,” he gasps, gripping the slats of the headboard in his strong hands. “Harder,” he grits out, moaning as Will pounds into him.

He lets go of any reservations he has and allows himself to fuck into Hannibal in earnest. His balls slap harshly against Hannibal’s ass with every brutal thrust, and Hannibal mewls under him, moaning loud and long against the mattress. Will presses a palm between his shoulder blades and lifts his hips upwards more, drilling the spot inside of him with each merciless thrust back inside. The headboard slams against the wall with each hard thrust, the poor bed frame squeaking in protest.

“Will,” Hannibal gasps, gripping the headboard with white knuckles. Will grips his hips in his unforgiving grip, tugging him back as he snaps his hips forward. His pace is relentless, and Will can feel sweat dripping down his spine from the exertion. 

The pleasure of it is blinding. It rolls up from his abdomen and through his cock, pulsing hotly with every snap of his hips. He’s keening, a high, strangled noise from the back of his throat as he fucks into him. “Close, Hannibal,” Will warns him. “Tell me you’re close,” he begs.

“Touch me,” Hannibal pleads. “Please.”

Will leans over his back, trying his best to maintain his rough pace as he grips Hannibal’s cock and jerks him in time with his thrusts. His cock is heavy in Will’s palm, and he can feel it twitching. “Oh, Will,” Hannibal bellows out as his hips stutter, thrusting into Will’s palm as he comes against the mattress. 

The muscles of Hannibal’s entrance clamp around his cock, and Will pounds into him as he comes, pumping it into his body. Hannibal collapses against the mattress while Will thrusts into him gently, easing himself down from the release that was torn out of him. He doesn’t slide out, instead he drops against his back, pressing kisses to his damp shoulders. “Wow,” Will chuckles breathlessly, licking the salt of his skin on his back. “Was that as good for you as it was for me?” Will asks seriously.

Hannibal’s breathing is still labored as he turns his head to look up at Will over his shoulder, a disbelieving arch to his eyebrow. “Do you really need to ask me that?”

Will blushes and hides it against Hannibal’s shoulder. “I think I do, yeah.”

“It might be the best I’ve ever had,” Hannibal replies. “If it’s second, it’s only to our first night together. I can’t choose, right now.”

“Both of your best times have been with me?” Will asks shyly.

“All of them, beloved,” Hannibal replies, turning his body and effectively allowing Will to slide out of him. His arms wrap around Will’s shoulders while he drags his chin up for a kiss, and Will sighs against his mouth, kissing him deeply. Hannibal pulls away eventually, kissing his chin softly while looking up into Will’s eyes. “I forget that others have made you question your efficacy in bed. I assure you, Will, I am extremely satisfied with you.”

Will smiles softly, dipping his eyes away. “Likewise.”

Hannibal licks his lips, tipping Will’s chin back up so he can look at him. “We’ve never been intimate with the lights off, nor been under the covers.”

Will shakes his head, huffing out a breath of amusement. “Why would we need to? You’re… receptive to me. Your eyes don’t wander anywhere else. You’re not thinking about anyone else. It’s just me, and I’m… outrageously flattered by that.”

Hannibal looks thoughtful for a moment, his long fingers tracing the edge of Will’s jaw, then the sleep deprived bruise under his eye. “As satisfying as that was, I prefer when I can see you. Your eyes, your gorgeous mouth,” Hannibal quirks his lips up while Will leans forward to kiss his cheekbone. “You truly are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

Will blushes and tries to hide it in the hollow of Hannibal’s throat. “I like having the lights on because I want to see you,” he whispers against the nape of his neck. “Because I feel the same way about you, too.”

“Your shyness sometimes,” Hannibal chuckles, kissing Will’s temple. “It provokes me, Will.”

Will grins, burrowing deeper against Hannibal’s neck. He’s beyond sated, and he’s so fucking tired that he can feel himself drifting off. Hannibal rouses him gently, touching the bare skin of his shoulder. “Get dressed before you fall asleep,” he says softly. “It will help if you’re in the grip of a night terror.”

Will nods drowsily. He knows that’s true. He’d also be mortified if he makes it outside naked as the day he was born.

He pulls his pajama pants on lethargically while Hannibal escapes to the bathroom to clean himself up. Will pulls his tee shirt on while Hannibal wipes down the sheets, cleaning up his release as best as he can before tossing the towel to the floor. Will climbs back into the bed while Hannibal pulls on his own pajama pants, but Will stops him before he gets his shirt back on. “Wait,” he says softly. “Just like that, please. I want your skin against me.”

Hannibal puts his shirt on the foot board before climbing back into the bed. His arms and scent around Will lull him to sleep within minutes.

He’s being held down. He’s being bitten. If he doesn’t fight, he’s going to be hurt, and Will panics, lashing out at the strong arms around him violently. 

He gets out of the grip, a scream lodged in the back of his throat as he hears someone’s voice. Someone is talking to him. He can’t hear it over his own panic, but the scent of the person is familiar. He focuses on the words, sobbing while he thrashes. “Your name is Will Graham,” the voice says softly. “You’re home. You’re safe. You’re with me, beloved. No one is hurting you, no one ever will as long as I draw breath. Come back to me, Will.”

Will blinks awake, and he’s soaked in sweat. Hannibal’s soft fingers are sliding across his cheek while his thumb sweeps away the tears that have coursed down his face. “You’re alright, beloved,” Hannibal soothes him. 

Will gasps against him, pressing his ear over Hannibal’s heart. The steady thrum of it soothes him, and the feel of his soft chest hair brings him back to himself enough to settle down. “I’m tired,” Will sighs.

“I know, beloved,” Hannibal whispers, trailing his fingers through Will’s damp curls. “You’re alright. Go back to sleep. I’m right here,” he promises Will, and it’s all he needs to hear. 

Will listens to his heartbeat and he drifts back to sleep. He doesn’t wake up from a nightmare again.


	14. Chapter 14

When the alarm goes off the following morning, Will feels worn down and exhausted. He’s gotten plenty of sleep, he knows. They went to bed almost right after dinner. Hannibal’s already missing from the bed, and he can hear his shower running. He lays there for a few more minutes, drifting in and out of sleep.

Hannibal comes back into the bedroom dressed in a pair of slacks and a deep red sweater. His hair is perfectly combed, and his face is shaved clean. The scent that follows him makes Will’s mouth water, and he smiles at the beautiful man at the foot of the bed. “You smell incredible,” Will drawls, and Hannibal chuckles. 

“Bathing will do that,” he teases, tapping Will’s hip with his palm. “Go shower. I’ll make us something for breakfast.”

“I don’t really eat in the morning,” Will replies, stretching against the mattress. 

“Well, you will be eating this morning,” Hannibal responds drolly. “Get up, beloved.”

Will climbs from the bed and heads to the bathroom, stretching his aching shoulder the entire way. He takes a shower and shaves his face clean as he’s heading to Hannibal’s house immediately after work for a dinner party, and he wants to look respectable.

He wears his blue button-down that he knows Hannibal likes on him, and pairs it with a pair of gray slacks. He styles his curls as best as he can, parting them and twirling them in his fingers so there’s some semblance of control. It won’t last, he knows, but he at least tried.

He brushes his teeth and heads downstairs to find his dogs fed and watered, and Hannibal plating over-easy eggs with toast and butter. There’s coffee already brewed, and Will moans gratefully, leaning up to kiss the wonderful man in thanks.

Hannibal grins against his mouth, smoothing a quick hand against the soft skin of his jaw. “You look beautiful.”

Will blushes as he pulls away to pour himself a coffee. The shirt was working in his favor already. “I know you like me in blue,” he says with a chuckle. 

Hannibal sets the table and Will joins him with his coffee in hand, digging into his perfect eggs with gusto. “So much for you not eating in the morning,” Hannibal teases.

“I feel good today,” Will shrugs. “I got sleep, had hot sex, I’m being fed breakfast,” Will chuckles. “Nothing bad about any of it.”

“You’re going to a dinner party to meet a few acquaintances of mine,” Hannibal reminds him, and Will frowns.

“It won’t be so bad,” Will replies while dipping his toast in the yolk of his egg. “It won’t, right?”

“It won’t,” Hannibal assures him, leaning forward to swipe a bit of yolk from the corner of Will’s mouth before bringing his thumb to his lips to suck it off the pad. Heat shoots through Will with the gesture, and Hannibal chuckles. Will feels his cheeks heat up when Hannibal inhales a little bit, turning to Will with darkened eyes. 

Will helps him clean up before he takes his dogs out for one last outing. Hannibal gathers his things from the night before, and hands Will a container of food for lunch. “What’s this?”

“Salmon,” Hannibal replies. “I made three filets, so you’d have enough for lunch today.”

“God,” Will sighs, leaning up for a kiss with a smile. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“I have to feed you it seems,” Hannibal scolds him. “Or else you’d live off strawberry jam.”

“Don’t hate on the Smucker’s,” Will replies with a laugh. “At least it’s fruit?”

Hannibal kisses him soundly, sighing against his lips. “It used to be, maybe.”

Will gathers his student’s papers and stuffs them into his shoulder bag. Hannibal hands him a thermos of coffee for the road before Will calls his dogs back inside the house. 

They both step out onto the porch, and Will grins behind his travel cup as Hannibal locks up the house for him. Will follows him to his Bentley while Hannibal puts his overnight bag in the backseat, turning to Will with a little smile. “I’ll see you shortly,” he says softly while leaning forward for a kiss.

Will meets him half-way, lingering against his lips for a moment before pulling away. “You want me stop for anything?”

“No,” Hannibal replies immediately. “Just come back to me when you’re finished for the day. I’m leaving work at three to begin dinner.”

Will nods, hoisting his shoulder bag further up his arm. “Alright,” he agrees, biting his lip as he steps away. “See you later, darlin’,” he drawls. He turns as he’s walking away, and the intensity of the look Hannibal is throwing at him makes his smirk turn into a full smile. 

His day is mostly bullshit, especially when Jack comes to the breakroom at lunchtime again to ask if he’s got any insight, and Will has to tell him, again, that he does not.

Bev is sitting to his side, eating a peanut butter and banana sandwich when Jack leaves, and she turns to him with an arched eyebrow. “All his eggs are in your basket for this one,” she says with a shrug. “Don’t take it personally that he’s… you know.”

“I do know,” Will replies, taking a bite of his salmon. “I also understand. I haven’t been sleeping because it’s…”

“Oh, I know,” she replies, cutting him off. “Every scene I’m called to for that fucker makes me sick to my stomach for days.”

“Do the Ripper cases make you feel that way, too?” Will asks. 

She shrugs, wrinkling her nose as she considers it. “I don’t know. Sometimes? Not really?” She sighs, pulling her dark hair over her shoulder. “No, the Ripper scenes don’t make me feel that way. What does that say about me, I wonder.”

Will smirks, glancing up at her with relief evident on his face. “It makes you the same as me,” he replies with a twist of his lips. “I was worried when I realized this upsets me more than… well,”

“The things we have to choose between,” she grimaces. “You look good today, by the way. You’ve looked like a zombie all week, and now you’re all well-rested and dressed sharp as a tack.”

“I’m going to a dinner party at my partner’s house,” he replies shyly, averting his eyes to the table. “I’ve never met his… friends before.”

“A dinner party?” she asks, raising her eyebrows. “I imagine you don’t mean pizza and beer.”

“Definitely not,” Will laughs. “He’s… much more refined than I am. I’m a little worried because I’ve only ever done pizza and beer nights, not… elegant dinner parties.”

“You’re gonna be Julia Roberts with the dinner fork conundrum,” she giggles. “Except for the whole prostitute thing, obviously.”

“Fuck off,” Will laughs. “I said the same thing to Hannibal.”

“Hannibal?” she repeats with a gaping mouth. “As in Doctor Lecter?”

Will blushes hotly. “You know him?”

“Yeah,” she says as her grin grows wider. “He used to consult with us a few years back. He’s… fuckhot. A little stuffy for my taste with his suits and whatnot, but… I get it.”

“Christ,” he sighs, blushing to his hairline. 

“You two must be just ridiculously hot together. Power couple,” she muses and Will groans.

“Bev come on,” he pleads, and she giggles as she relents. 

“Alright, alright,” she says, nudging his shoulder. “He’s an upscale guy, but he’s extra polite. He likes it when others are respectful, too. So, no cussing, rudeness, surliness, or… well, anything you do. Long story short you’re basically screwed tonight. Your dinner fork issue is the least of your worries.”

“Thanks,” he replies dryly.

“No problem!” she chirps brightly. 

The rest of his day goes by mostly without incident, and Will heads to his car, trying not to nervous sweat through his button-down.

He’s the first one to arrive at Hannibal’s house, as it’s just after four when he pulls up. He feels marginally better about that, and he lets himself into the house with his key, ditching his coat in the foyer before heading into the kitchen.

He finds him at the counter seasoning a rack of lamb in a spotless pan, and he looks up when Will walks in with a smile on his mouth. “How was your day, beloved?”

“Long,” Will replies, gliding up for a quick kiss before getting out from under foot. “I outed us as a couple today.”

Hannibal quirks an eyebrow at that. “Alana already knows, Will.”

“I know,” Will shrugs. “Now Bev knows, and… I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it.”

“I’ve already told you that I’m not ashamed of you, or us, in the least. Very much so the opposite. Beverly Katz?”

“Yeah,” Will chuckles. “She… she remembers you, too.”

“Very polite woman,” Hannibal replies.

“Because she knows you like that. She’s… pretty good at reading people too, in her own way.” Will retorts, reaching for the opened bottle of wine on the counter so he can pour himself a glass. “She loves teasing me.”

“You make it worth the effort, darling,” Hannibal grins. “What does she say?”

“Just that you’re fuckhot and that I am going to make a fool of myself tonight,” Will blurts out while tugging a nervous hand through the curls at the nape of his neck.

Hannibal’s hands pause as he’s putting the roast in the oven, turning to Will with a bemused expression. “She said those two things in the same breath?”

“No,” Will sighs. “I gave you the Cliff Notes.”

Hannibal turns to him once the roast is in the oven, smiling gently. “As for the first thing, I genuinely don’t know how to respond to that,” he says, biting his lip and averting his eyes to the counter. “As for the second, I have complete faith that you can get through a dinner without embarrassing me, or yourself.”

“I met you because I came to you after reading your paper on social exclusion,” Will says while pacing the kitchen. “To help with my profile on the Ripper.”

Hannibal arches an eyebrow at him. “Worried about that, are you?”

“Obviously,” Will sighs. “I did read it, by the way. Your paper.”

“Did you?” Hannibal wonders, pausing his hands as he’s slicing perfect, red-skinned potatoes. “What did you think?”

“It’s inciteful,” Will replies, hesitating only a bit with his response. “The paper assumes that the victims of social exclusion tend towards the violent end of the spectrum. I don’t know how to tell you this, but I was socially excluded. I turned out fine.”

Hannibal raises his eyes to him again, and the expression on his face is perfectly unreadable. “I suppose there are exceptions,” he says blandly.

“Of course,” Will replies awkwardly. “Do… would you like some help? Don’t say no just to brush me off.”

“I wouldn’t dream of brushing you off,” Hannibal smirks. “However, I can perfectly manage this, Will. I’m… quite particular.”

“No kidding,” Will laughs, and Hannibal gifts him with a glare for it. 

“I enjoy your company in the kitchen, regardless,” Hannibal tells him while resuming his crisp flicks of his knife against the cutting board. 

“Thank you again for coming to my house last night,” Will says meaningfully while twirling his wine glass against the counter. “I hadn’t slept that good all week.”

“You still had a night terror,” Hannibal notes, tossing the cut potatoes in seasoning and olive oil. 

“I did,” Will nods, reaching for his glass for a sip of his wine. “I was able to get back to sleep with you, though. I don’t usually manage that alone. This case… I don’t know why it’s in my head like this.”

“Perhaps you’ll tell me about it this weekend?” Hannibal wonders, glancing up at him briefly. “It may help to talk it through with someone else.”

“I’ve done that with Jack,” Will admits with a frustrated shrug. “Everything comes back to the simple fact that we don’t know how he chooses them. I don’t… ugh, I don’t want to talk about it, right now.”

“Very well, beloved,” Hannibal nods. 

Once everything is in his massive oven, Hannibal comes around the counter, untying his spotless apron from his narrow waist. Will grabs at him, tugging him closer with a little smirk on his face. Hannibal settles between his spread thighs from where he sits at the stool, leaning down to press his lips to Will’s own. Their kiss is gentle. Sweet. Will smiles against his mouth, peppering kisses towards his jawline. “Are you busy this weekend?”

Hannibal shakes his head, trailing his fingers down the dip of Will’s back. “I was invited today to attend an opening at an art exhibit tomorrow night, but I don’t know if I want to go to that, yet.”

“Invited by who?” Will asks, feeling a little blade of jealousy creep up his spine. 

“A friend, Will,” Hannibal grins, picking up on all of Will’s jealousy by the way Will asks the question coupled with the wry twist of his mouth. “Evelyn Komeda. She’s a woman whom I met when I first began my rotation at Johns Hopkins.”

“She asked you as a date?” Will asks, trying to get Hannibal to explain this a bit. 

“Her husband would very likely not appreciate that,” Hannibal chuckles, nuzzling at Will’s jawline with his lips. “It’s a semi-formal gathering. If you’d like to go with me, then I’ll go. If not, then we can find something else to do.”

Will groans at the way he asks it. If he doesn’t go, it’s because Will doesn’t want to. It’s pretty clear that he’d like to attend, and if he says no it’s a selfish decision on his part. Hannibal has been so damned good to him. He could stick it out for a little art exhibit. “I’ll go with you,” Will agrees hesitantly. It takes all the muscles in his face to keep from grimacing at the thought.

Hannibal beams down at him, kissing his temple thankfully. “Not what I expected whatsoever,” he grins. “You so rarely do what I expect, though.”

“Semi-formal… meaning?” Will asks dumbly. He genuinely doesn’t know what that entails.

“What you’re wearing currently would be perfect,” Hannibal replies, smoothing his fingers against the collar of his shirt. “You could meet me here for five? I’ll make us dinner before we go.”

“You don’t have to cook for me all the time,” Will sighs. “I know you like it, but… Christ I haven’t done anything for you.”

“I’m not keeping tallies,” Hannibal assures him, but Will is mildly distracted by the damp trail of his mouth against his neck. 

“That’s,” he sighs, tipping his head a bit to make room for his mouth. “That’s good, because I have no fucking tallies on my side at all.”

“Once you start getting paychecks, I’ll let you spoil me as much as you want,” Hannibal says in a placating tone. “Although, I must admit to you, I feel quite spoiled already.” He suckles at the skin under Will’s ear gently, and Will lets out a little moan, shifting his body closer on the stool. 

Will tips his face up, dragging their mouths together. The soft slip of their tongues against one another sends a little pulse of pleasure through his gut, and the doorbell rings. Will pulls away with a groan, while Hannibal grins softly, pressing a few more chaste kisses to Will’s cheek. “It’ll be fine, Will.”

Hannibal leaves him and Will tries to settle himself, standing at the counter to smooth his shirt and adjust his slacks. He hears voices of warm greeting at the door before an absolutely gorgeous blonde woman comes into the kitchen on Hannibal’s arm. Her eyes slide over Will’s body from head to toe, dissecting and judging, and Will straightens his spine a little bit against the appraisal. 

“Bedelia, this is my partner, Will Graham,” Hannibal introduces him politely. He pointedly leaves Bedelia’s arm to come to Will’s side, placing his warm palm against the small of Will’s back. 

“Nice to meet you,” Will says, extending his hand.

She looks at it like he’s offering her a wad of used toilet paper and accepts it just as eagerly. “Likewise,” she says dryly. Her icy blue eyes hold his own for a beat before Will has to look away. “I wasn’t aware Hannibal was seeing anyone.”

“It’s still… new,” Will admits with a shrug, and Hannibal kisses his temple for it. 

Bedelia watches them with an almost shocked expression on her stoic face, and Hannibal turns to her with a little smile. “Would you care for a glass of wine?”

“Please,” she replies politely. Hannibal fucking abandons him to go get her something to drink, and he’s left standing with the ice queen at the counter. “How did you meet?”

Will shifts awkwardly, doing his damned best not to fidget. Something about this woman lets him know that she’d eat him alive at the first sign of weakness. “I came to him after I read his paper on marginalization,” Will replies, and he’s impressed by the evenness of his voice. “I was working on a profile for the Chesapeake Ripper.”

She arches a delicate eyebrow at that. “And what is it that you do?”

“I teach criminal psychology at Quantico,” he says while averting his eyes. “I consult on cases and write profiles occasionally.”

Hannibal rejoins them, handing her a glass of deep red wine that she accepts gratefully. She sniffs at the glass before taking a gentle sip. “How have you been, Hannibal?” she asks.

“Very well, thank you,” he replies. “I apologize for how long it’s been since I’ve reached out. Will came into my life, and well, I’m sure you understand.” His warm palm is against the small of Will’s back, and Will feels a little thrill at being so pridefully showed off like this. He feels the warmth creep up his neck before boldly leaning a bit of his weight against Hannibal’s side. 

“It’s nice to see you so happy,” she replies, and her tone and facial expression imply she thinks it’s anything but nice. “I’ve never heard him introduce anyone as his significant other. I look forward to knowing you, Will. You must be very special indeed to have captured his attention like this.”

Will can feel her eyes stabbing into him, razor cuts to his face and body as if trying to comprehend what Hannibal sees in him. “He is,” Hannibal replies, and his warm smile is almost enough to melt the ice of her voice.

The other dinner guests arrive, and Will decides the only one that’s barely worth tolerating is Donald’s wife, Beth. She’s… friendly enough, and she at least doesn’t look at Will like he’s a science experiment. Donald doesn’t seem to give two shits about his existence one way or another, and Will doesn’t mind that, either.

Will can still feel the greasy, filthy, roam of Frederick Chilton’s eyes on him even though he’s pointedly not looked at him again since he met him earlier. It’s like the beady eyed little man can see right through him. He can feel… well, sexual interest from him. That’s clear as day with the appreciative roam of his eyes over Will’s face, then body. He knows he hasn’t imagined it, because the possessive palm Hannibal presses to his lower back is his way of claiming Will in front of him.

There’s more to it, though. It’s like he can feel Will’s disorder, or something. Will’s shyness and avoidance of eye contact has sparked a clinical interest from the other man, and it’s made Frederick bolder. “This might seem inappropriate to ask,” he says, waving his wine glass as he stands to Will’s side. Hannibal is prepping dinner, so Will has been left to fend for himself. “What is your diagnosis, I wonder?”

“Excuse me?” Will asks, raising his eyebrows in shock. Of all the things he thought might come out of his mouth, it’s not that.

Frederick gives him a slow smile. “You have… quirks, Mr. Graham. I’m merely curious. Asperger’s? Autism?”

Will’s mouth is hanging open as he stares just to the left of the stupid man. He was a psychiatrist. He should know better than to ask something like this. Will snaps his mouth shut and huffs out a breath. “I’m hitched somewhere between those two. No formal diagnosis,” Will replies honestly while an uncomfortable blush creeps up his face. “I have pure empathy.”

Frederick’s eyes light up at that. “Excess mirror neurons,” he breathes. “How remarkable. Coupled with your other neuroses, you’re quite a rare find.”

“Excuse me, please,” Will says softly. He places his wine glass down and books it to a bathroom where he can hide out for a while. He closes the door and leans against the counter, rubbing his temples for relief. He hates this. Hates it, hates it. This is exactly what Will didn’t want to happen. A bunch of psychiatrists drooling over his fucking mess of a head, while Will wishes the floor would swallow him whole.

Will scrubs a hand across his face as he straightens his spine. He could finish this night for Hannibal. He’s perfectly capable of assuming the persona of someone else, and he’d do that for the rest of the night. 

He takes one more second to shake apart in the bathroom, before steeling his spine and returning to Hannibal’s guests.

Hannibal tries to seat Will at the opposite head of the table from him, and Will grips his wrist, pleading with him with his eyes. He doesn’t want to be that far away. Not at all.

Hannibal pulls the chair back, his eyes trailing from Will’s to his mouth, then back up again. “Frederick,” Hannibal says cordially. “Why don’t you sit at the head of the table?”

“A place of honor,” Frederick says, strutting to the seat with a little bounce in his step. “I imagine Will’s disorders make it so that he’s more comfortable close by, yes?” he says as he takes the seat.

Will sits to Hannibal’s right, grimacing at how Frederick just announced his issues to the fucking dinner table. Hannibal seems at a complete loss for words, his eyes narrowing on Frederick in disgust. “It’s for my benefit, in fact,” Hannibal says while smiling softly at Will. “I always prefer him to be as close to me as possible.” Will is not sure anyone at the damned table believes a word of it, but he’s thankful for the deflection, at least.

Bedelia sits to Will’s right, and he feels her prickling as she turns to Frederick. “What does your therapist say about your complete lack of empathy, I wonder?” she asks him, her voice as frigid as an arctic breeze.

Frederick smiles, his face portraying clear confusion about the question. “I don’t have a therapist, Bedelia.”

She raises a delicate eyebrow at him as she sips her wine. “Oh? Perhaps you should.”

Will glances at her, raising his eyes to meet her own. She flicks her eyes towards him briefly, nodding her head only barely. Maybe… she’d grow on Will. 

Everyone settles into their spots to eat, and the conversation steers to papers and articles that they’ve read. Will pays some attention, but not enough to make a comment on anything. They’re all so… stuffy. Pretentious. The only one Will feels any kind pretense from is Hannibal. He glances at his partner, noting that Hannibal is giving Donald a plastic smile, making a comment about something that’s been said.

He doesn’t know why Hannibal does this. This is not him, not by a long shot. His mask is stitched up tight. Every word and facial expression is a perfect mimic of what is expected. It’s not Hannibal that’s sitting to his left right now. It’s a fake version of himself that he shows the world. 

Will concedes that he wasn’t raised the way that Hannibal was. He doesn’t know how upper-crust people operate, and he imagines there’s a need for pretense in some cases. Honesty, with these people, is akin to showing weakness.

“How did you and Will meet?” Beth asks, steering the conversation away from a boring article on glioblastomas. 

Hannibal turns to Will, and his plastic smile melts into his real one. “He’s a professor at Quantico,” he replies, and the pride in his voice is endearing. He rests his hand over Will’s own, squeezing his fingers gently. “He came to me for advice on a profile he was working on after reading my article on marginalization. We had more in common than the socially excluded of the world, and I asked him to dinner. Imagine my surprise when this beautiful man agreed.”

Will smiles softly, averting his eyes to their joined hands while Beth coos. “That’s so sweet,” she says, and there’s no hint of insincerity in her voice. 

“Whose profile were you working on?” Frederick asks.

“The Chesapeake Ripper,” Will replies, and Bedelia raises her eyebrows at him. 

“Fascinating,” Donald chimes in. “Do they usually let professors consult on such high-profile cases?”

Will frowns a bit at that, turning to him with an arched eyebrow. “I think it’s more an ‘all-hands-on-deck’ kind of case. Anyone with any helpful insight is welcomed. We just want to catch him.” 

“It would give me nightmares,” Beth shivers. “Even the little bit they discuss on the news upsets me enough to lose sleep sometimes. Him, and that man that’s taking those young girls. I don’t know what the world is coming to.”

“Are you working on that case, too?” Frederick asks, and Will glances away awkwardly.

“I can’t discuss ongoing investigations,” he says dismissively. He does not want to talk about that case in the least, thank you very much.

“Have they called you to consult, Hannibal?” Donald asks with a wry twist of his mouth.

Hannibal sips his wine, turning to Donald with a droll expression. “I am no longer consulting with the FBI, but they’ve not asked me. I’m not entirely certain I’d be willing to, either.”

“It’s surprising they’d ask someone like Will to consult before they asked you,” Donald laughs. “No offense, I’m sure you’re excellent,” he says, and Will knows he doesn’t mean it at all.

“I do the best I can,” Will replies.

“He’s an incredibly gifted profiler,” Hannibal interjects. “His insights are extraordinary.”

“His empathy disorder would make that entirely possible, yes,” Frederick says off-handedly, and Hannibal goes still.

“Did you talk to him about it?” Hannibal asks in surprise, and Will blushes while shrugging his shoulders. 

“I asked him earlier where he fell on the spectrum, and he told me of it.”

Hannibal’s eyes narrow on him, and even Will feels uncomfortable at the thought of being pinned by such a scrutinizing gaze. “Your levity astounds me, Frederick. Will is here as my partner, not as a case in which I’ve asked you to consult.”

“Is he on the spectrum?” Donald asks, and Will is done with all of this. “That would explain the lack of eye contact.”

“Donald,” Beth scolds him in embarrassment.

Will stands up, blushing and completely miserable. “I think I’m going to go, Hannibal,” he says softly. 

Hannibal stands, following Will to the foyer and he can hear the murmurs in the other room. “Don’t go, beloved,” Hannibal pleads softly. “I am so sorry about this.”

“I have to go take care of my dogs,” Will replies, avoiding all eye contact pointedly. “I haven’t been home all day. I’m sorry. I know this is… rude.”

“They’ve been rude,” Hannibal retorts, reaching for Will’s hand and grasping it gently in his. “They can be forward, but this is… inexcusable. Stay. Please. You can go to the study while I ask them to leave.”

“Don’t,” Will pleads, and his blush is crawling into his hairline in mortification. “It’ll only make it worse. I’ll… see you tomorrow.”

“If you don’t want to come to the exhibit,” Hannibal begins, and Will leans up to kiss him. 

Hannibal sighs against his mouth, tucking his fingers under Will’s chin as Will pulls away. “I’ll go. I can’t stand the idea that it’ll be like today, but…”

“It won’t be,” Hannibal says gravely. “I’ll kill the next person that speaks to you this way.”

Will chuckles, glancing down at their still laced fingers. “I’m sorry I’m like this,” he says softly. “Molly… she hated it too. I get that,”

“Stop apologizing for who you are,” Hannibal interjects, punctuation the comment with a sharp kiss to Will’s mouth. “You are perfect, Will. It’s not your fault that no one here tonight has a shred of common decency or compassion.”

Will nods, but he still feels… withdrawn. “Goodnight, Hannibal.”

Hannibal leans over him, and the kiss is soft. Just the barest bit of sweet tongue and soft lips. “Goodnight, beloved.”

Will leaves the house, and he feels instantly better and worse at the same time. Hannibal has done so very much for him, and he couldn’t even make it through a whole dinner with his… friends? Acquaintances? Will knows he didn’t precisely do anything wrong, but he should know by now that his mannerisms aren’t exactly the social norm. He’s never been around so many people that discuss it like the weather, though.

Psychiatrists.

He shivers as he gets into his car. He wouldn’t be spending any time with Frederick Chilton again. He’d make damn sure of it.

He sleeps like absolute shit that night. He’s worried about having a night terror, so he just tosses and turns, staring out at the moon through his bedroom window. When he gets tired of pretending he’s going to sleep, he gathers his dogs and wraps himself in a blanket to sit on his porch. 

He wonders what it’s like for normal people. Can they just shut off their concerns at the end of the day? He knows Molly could. She slept soundly and fell asleep immediately, regardless of whatever was bothering her throughout the day.

Hannibal seems to sleep well, too. He knows Hannibal has all manner of ghosts in his closet, and yet he still functions. He’s still successful.

For the very first time in his life, it hurts him that he’s so obviously different from everyone else. When he thinks of himself with Hannibal, he imagines a successful profiler with a straight spine. A confident man that is perfectly equal to the other. He’s… not, though. The reality of it stings.

He thinks of himself that way with Hannibal because his partner never makes him feel like he’s an awkward human being. He embraces Will with everything in him, and it’s so extraordinarily refreshing. Because of how Hannibal treats him, he forgets himself.

The reminder tonight of what he’s really like is a harsh one. 

His mind turns from his own personal problems to the case that’s plaguing him. He can’t see the killer no matter how he turns his mind over it. What kind of a man does something like this? Someone with no priors. No history of known violence. His DNA does not match any previous crimes, nor does his fingerprints.

One day, he woke up and decided to kill and rape a girl. Brutally. Where did it come from?

The only thing that makes any sense at all was that the killer knew Grace Beaumont. He must have known her and wanted her. No one they interviewed or took DNA samples from matched up, though.

Will takes his phone out and calls Jack without even realizing what time it is, and when Jack answers, he becomes aware of it. “Someone better be fucking dead, Graham,” he slurs sleepily.

Will glances down at his phone, grimacing. 2:04 am. Not a good time to call one’s boss. “Did we look into guys in Grace’s classes? Professors?”

Jack clears his throat, and Will knows he’s trying to wake up. “We collected DNA from those that were willing to submit it,” he replies groggily. “The ones that refused, we merely checked their mouths for missing left incisors. None were missing any teeth, Will.”

“Fuck,” Will sighs, scrubbing a hand across his face.

“Are you sleeping at all?” Jack asks, and even through the grit in his tired voice, Will can hear the concern in it.

“Uh,” Will considers lying, but doesn’t. “Not really, no.”

“The first few weeks after we found Grace were like that for me, too,” he concedes. “I want to tell you it gets better, but I think I’ve lost ten years of my life every time we find another girl. Dr. Bloom is on our roster if you think talking to someone could be helpful.”

“I’m fine,” Will replies quickly. Hell no, he’s not speaking with Dr. Bloom about his issues. “Thank you, though.”

“Was there something else, Will?”

“No,” he breathes, shaking his head while he looks up at the moon through the trees. “Sorry to wake you. It was just… a thought.”

“It’s fine,” Jack says, clearing his throat. “Night, Will.”

“Good night,” Will replies, clicking his phone shut. 

He knows the killer knew Grace, somehow. He knows it right down to his bones. He just didn’t know how, yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chilton was a horrid little beast, wasn't he? Poor Will. 
> 
> ON THE PLUS SIDE, we get to meet Mrs. Komeda next chapter, and she's MUCH nicer than this little click of Hannibal's friends. <3


	15. Chapter 15

He manages a few hours of broken sleep, waking sometimes after ten. Despite his exhaustion, he craves the peace of his stream, so he packs up his fishing gear and dresses in his lined waders before heading out to walk to it. His dogs trail behind him, sniffing the grass and running through the field, and he grins to himself. He’s within walking distance of his favorite place. Something he never really thought would happen for him.

He catches two perfect rainbow trout in about three hours, but he lets them go because he doesn’t have time to clean them or filet them today. Time flies by when he’s out here. He’s a little cold, but the sun warms the rubber of his waders where he’s not in the stream, and it makes it bearable.

There’s an enormous empty nest in the dead tree across the stream, and he wonders absently if he’ll have osprey that come to nest in the springtime. If that’s the case, he’d have to take care when bringing Buster out here. They would take him for a snack, no problem.

He packs up reluctantly, dreading the very idea of going to this art thing with Hannibal. Last night was a disaster, and he’s not keen on a repeat performance tonight, too. Hannibal is so… proud of him, though. It’s the strangest thing he’s ever dealt with in his life, because he can’t understand it at all. 

Will is obviously proud to call Hannibal his partner, but he’s gorgeous. He’s successful, polite, intelligent. The list goes on and on for him, while Will is… well, he’s finding success, now. He can be polite… on occasion. He doesn’t think he’s gorgeous, exactly, but he knows he’s not unattractive, too. 

His mind wanders to Bedelia, for some reason. She is absolutely perfect for Hannibal. She’s got an elegance that practically emanates from inside of her. Her icy demeanor is just a front. He can feel it in the way that she came to his subtle defense, and he knows Hannibal would have appreciated her for it. 

He can picture them perfectly together at an opera, or dancing in some grand ballroom. 

When Will tries to imagine himself in that space, all he sees is dog hair and wild curls. A scruffy-faced man that can’t maintain eye contact with anyone.

His mood is decidedly sour by the time he gets back to his house to get dressed and ready for tonight. He showers and shaves his face clean, styling his hair the best he can before he rummages through his closet.

He owns almost no dressy clothes, and he grimaces while flicking through his closet. He’s got a black blazer and fitted black dress slacks from Henri’s funeral several years ago. They are still in good shape, and they’re not too dated. 

He pairs them with a light gray button-down he has, and he leaves the top buttons at the throat undone. The image he has of himself in his head is not the same as the reflection he’s regarding in the mirror. He looks good. The suit fits him perfectly, and the gray of the shirt makes his eyes look like chipped ice. He’s more than he thinks he is, and he makes a conscious decision to try and remember it.

After feeding his dogs and getting them outside for a bit, he heads to Hannibal’s house. 

He hesitates on his landing for long enough that the door eventually opens even though he didn’t knock or ring the doorbell. Hannibal’s face is stoic while Will blushes about being caught just… loitering. “I was trying to give you time to decide to knock, but it was taking longer than I thought. I was worried you’d decide to leave.”

Will averts his eyes, wringing his hands. “I wouldn’t leave,” he says softly. “I… I just needed a minute.”

“Come in, beloved,” Hannibal pleads. 

Will takes a deep breath as he heads into the house, and when Hannibal closes the door, he turns to him. “I don’t want to be here if you invite Chilton again,” Will blurts out immediately. “I don’t want to speak to him. I don’t want him picking at my fucking head. Never, Hannibal.”

Hannibal nods while licking his bottom lip. “He will not be invited here again.”

Will shakes his head and begins pacing the foyer. “You can invite him,” he says with a sigh. “I just want fair warning so I can stay away while he is. He wanted to fuck me, Hannibal. He wanted to fuck me and fuck with my head at the same time. He was a creep, and even worse than that, an insensitive fucking creep to boot.”

“After his ghastly display of rudeness, I no longer want him here either,” Hannibal assures him. “Did he say something to you? Come on to you in some way?”

“No,” Will chuckles. “Again, my gift makes words completely unnecessary. I can feel it. His eyes didn’t know where to land, so they just… roamed. He’s disgusting. For someone like Bedelia to come to my rescue, you know it’s bad.”

Hannibal purses his lips at that. “Did you know Bedelia before last night?”

“No,” Will sighs. He turns to Hannibal to look him in the eyes, and Hannibal looks right back. “She’s an ice queen, but it’s a front. Just like your mask is a front. She’s a decent human being under all that frost, I can see it. Maybe you don’t understand my gift as well as you think you do.”

Hannibal tips his head at that, giving Will a slow blink. “Perhaps not. It’s remarkable to see how inciteful you are about others.”

“Please don’t,” Will groans. “Don’t be my therapist. Not right now.” 

“Maybe we should stay home tonight,” Hannibal says eventually, and Will turns to him with an irritable expression.

“Why?” Will asks acerbically. “Because I’m too fucking awkward to take out in public? Because you’re realizing that I have no place in your life? Or is it that you’re worried more of your friends are going treat me like I’m a fucking science experiment?”

Will turns to look at Hannibal, and the dark expression on his face stalls his pacing momentarily. “It’s none of those things, and you know that. I just realize that maybe meeting more new people is not something you’re interested in doing after last night. I’ll always choose you, Will. You come before any of them. I’d place your wellbeing before my own.”

His heart breaks in his chest at that, and he turns to Hannibal with slumped shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

“As am I,” Hannibal replies. “Between Donald and Frederick, I am shocked at how abominably you were treated. Bedelia gave them a piece of her mind after you left. If it weren’t for her sharp words, I would have torn into them.”

“Who is Bedelia to you?” Will asks, and he’s not even sure he actually wants to know before he asks it.

“A colleague,” Hannibal replies quickly, and he sighs. “We… saw one another years ago. I took her to dinner a few times, but it never became more.”

Will huffs out a breath and resumes pacing. “And why is that?”

Hannibal shrugs. “I did not see her in my life. I couldn’t imagine sharing anything personal with her. She’s… very judgmental. Very critical of others. She held me to an expectation that was higher than I was willing to meet. Her life is very… hollow, in a way. I can integrate myself into that lifestyle, but it’s not how I choose to live anymore.”

“And how is it that you choose to live right now, Hannibal?” Will asks. He can’t help it. A nagging thought is that Hannibal is only with him now because it’s something different. Something he hasn’t tried before.

“I choose to be myself, and to be with someone who accepts me fully regardless of it.”

“Regardless of you being yourself?” Will repeats in disbelief. “Hannibal, there’s nothing about you that’s… a compromise. You’re sickeningly perfect.”

Hannibal doesn’t respond to that, and Will turns to him to take in his body language. He’s completely closed off, from his face right down to his toes. Will can’t get a read on any of it. The tension in his face smooths out, and a small smile lifts the corners of his mouth. “Sickeningly perfect?”

A laugh bubbles out of Will’s mouth, and he blushes. “Kind of a backhanded compliment, I guess.”

“I’m certain you won’t believe me, but I feel the same way about you.”

Will stares at him in shock, picking apart his facial expression, body language, and tone. Not one thing suggests he doesn’t mean it. The revelation is so fucking strange that Will laughs. “You don’t see me clearly, Dr. Lecter.”

“I see you perfectly well,” he replies confidently. He comes cautiously to stand in front of Will, reaching hesitantly to tip his jaw upwards while he leans in for a gentle kiss. “I see you, Will. You have flaws just as I do. There is so much more to you. I saw it the moment I met you, and you keep proving it every moment that I’ve known you since. My social standing… it means nothing. I’ve led a very lonely life because there has been no one that I consider my equal. Until you.”

The little lump in Will’s throat sticks uncomfortably as he swallows, looking up at Hannibal in disbelief. “Let’s have dinner before we go to the art thing,” Will says thickly.

Hannibal’s mouth quirks up, and his eyes glitter in the low light of the foyer. “Do you really want to go?”

Will nods, stepping forward to wrap his arms around Hannibal’s waist. They’ve kissed and they’ve fucked. It’s a little strange to realize that they’ve never hugged. Hannibal stiffens in his embrace, as though he’s in disbelief that he’s being hugged in the first place. Will rests his cheek against his shoulder as Hannibal wraps his arms around him. It’s a little awkward. He’s all elbows and hard angles, but Will appreciates that he’s trying to be gentle. “You’re all I have in this world, Hannibal. It’s more than that, though. You’re all I need, I think.”

Soft lips caress his temple, and Will smiles against the soft material of his button-down. Hannibal holds him a little tighter, but it’s still ridiculously gentle. Will tips his face upwards to press a kiss to a sharp cheekbone, and he feels the smile on Hannibal’s face with his lips. 

They have an absolutely delicious dinner that Hannibal tells him is a Portuguese dish, shrimp Mozambique. The sauce is spicy and buttery, and Will eats almost all of the bread that Hannibal made to dip in it.

He’s absolutely stuffed by the time they climb into the Bentley, and Will groans as he pulls on his seatbelt. “I feel like I need a nap after all that good food.”

Hannibal chuckles as they pull onto the street. “It’s good to see you feeling more comfortable around me. You ate… very well, tonight.”

Will laughs at that, turning to him with a wide smile. “A really nice way of saying I ate like a fat kid. I honestly wish I could unbutton my pants right now.”

“You could,” Hannibal says in a teasing tone. “I doubt we’d make it to the gallery if you insist on disrobing.” 

“I didn’t say I’d take them off,” Will laughs. “Just make a little breathing room, maybe. I had toast earlier, but the last real thing I ate was the two or three bites of lamb last night. It was absolutely delicious, by the way.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to enjoy it,” Hannibal replies with a twitch of his mouth. “The people tonight are pretentious, but they’re not rude. I actually enjoy their company, unlike almost everyone that was over last night.”

“High praise from you,” Will chuckles. 

They pull into the parking lot and head inside, and Will feels relieved at the atmosphere in the gallery. It’s elegant and subdued, music playing softly while a few dozen people mingle and sip drinks. The lighting is dim aside from the few bright lights aimed at the various pieces of art. It’s cozy almost, and Will relaxes a bit while Hannibal places a reassuring palm to the small of his back. “Hannibal?” a middle-aged woman says, clapping her hands animatedly. “Is that you, darling? It’s been so long I fear I’ve forgotten what you look like.”

She’s rake-thin, her dress emphasizing her extremely tiny frame by being skin-tight. Her hair is dyed as black as her dress, and she’s absolutely dripping in jewels that catch the lighting and glitter distractingly. She saunters over to him while Hannibal smiles politely, leaning down to air kiss both of her cheeks. “Evelyn, you look wonderful.”

“As do you, handsome man,” she says while beaming up at him brightly. “And who is this gorgeous thing?”

“This is my partner,” Hannibal replies pridefully. “Will Graham. Will, this is a dear friend of mine, Evelyn Komeda.”

“Will,” he corrects, offering his hand to her while she takes it gently. “Pleasure to meet you, Evelyn.”

“I assure you, the pleasure is all mine,” Evelyn sighs, gliding her wide eyes up and down Will’s body. “I see why you’ve been missing. What a stunning man you’ve found for yourself.”

“He’s extraordinary,” Hannibal agrees with a soft smile. His palm rests against Will’s back again, and Will leans into his side. 

“He must be,” she agrees, smiling at Will warmly. “I’ve never heard him introduce a single soul as his partner, and I’ve known him for almost eight years now. How did you meet?”

“I went to Hannibal for help with a profile,” Will says shyly. “I work at Quantico.”

She arches an eyebrow at Hannibal, grinning up at him. “So not only does he look like that, but he’s an intelligent man, besides. Lucky devil.”

“I met Evelyn in a similar manner,” Hannibal explains softly, accepting two glasses of champagne from a passing tray and handing one to Will. “She is a novelist who came to me for help with writing a crime novel. She had medical accuracy questions about encephalitis and its effects.”

“You’re an author?” Will asks, and he blushes the moment it leaves his mouth.

“Oh, sweet boy,” she giggles. “I take no offense. Why would you read crime fiction when you live it day to day? Yes, I’m an author. Although it’s been some time since I’ve written anything.”

“Thank you for inviting us,” Hannibal says politely. “It’s been far too long.”

“I’ve been waiting for an invitation to a dinner party, but it seems you don’t have them, anymore.” She says with a teasing smile.

“A dinner party must present itself,” Hannibal replies, glancing down at Will with a gentle smile. 

“A dinner party is not a unicorn, darling,” she says with a wide smile. She turns to Will, tipping her head just enough that the diamond choker at her neck catches and glitters in the light. “He used to have the most incredible dinner parties! The food was unlike anything I’ve ever had in my life,” she tells Will with a dramatic wave of her hand. “His meals are on par with fine art, fit to rival that of any five-star restaurant.”

“It’s incredible,” Will agrees with a chuckle. “He fed me right before we came, and I ate to the point where I feel like I need a nap.”

Her laugh is warm, her eyes sparkling as she touches Will’s hand. “I completely agree with that. Who could blame you in the least?”

Her warmth and compassion are practically emanating from inside of her, she’s so kind. Will adores her, and his smile isn’t forced in the least as he grins down at her. Hannibal’s hand comes to rest against his lower back again, and Will leans into his body, allowing Hannibal to wrap his arm around his hip. “Will adores fresh bread. He ate enough tonight for three people.”

“Hey!” Will says indignantly, and Evelyn laughs.

“Who doesn’t appreciate fresh bread? And who could only have one serving of it?” A young couple is waving her over, and she twists her mouth as she glances over at them. “Please excuse me, darlings. I’m being beckoned. I’ll catch up with you both afterwards.”

She leaves, and Will turns to Hannibal with a wide smile. “She’s lovely.”

“I told you,” Hannibal chuckles. He leans forward to kiss Will softly, and Will sighs against his mouth before pulling away.

“Invite that poor woman to dinner. I don’t think she’s eaten since your last dinner party.”

“Will,” Hannibal scolds with a chuckle. His arm comes around Will’s hip again while he nuzzles against Will’s jaw. “That’s very rude.”

“Punish me later for it,” Will replies, turning his face quickly to press a sharp kiss to Hannibal’s mouth.

Hannibal’s eyes darken, and the filthy little smirk on his soft lips makes Will feel dizzy. “Later,” he promises with a grin.

They take their time walking around the exhibit, but Will doesn’t know anything really about art. Hannibal appraises each piece, sucking his teeth at some. “I don’t really appreciate abstract art,” Hannibal tells him in a murmured tone. “I prefer renaissance pieces. Still-life. What is this supposed to be, I wonder?” Hannibal asks while they stare at a painting of three curved lines done in mauve and soft pinks. 

“It looks like a vagina,” Will replies softly, covering his mouth with his fingers while he laughs. 

Hannibal lets out a sharp laugh, covering his own mouth as a few patrons turn to them in surprise. He turns his laugh into a cough, glaring down at Will with amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I want to scold you on propriety, but it… it does.”

They share an inappropriate giggle together, blushing and sipping their champagne. They walk around the exhibit, staring at the strange artwork on the walls with curious expressions. Will feels somewhat relieved that Hannibal doesn’t know what to make of art like this, either. An older woman touches Will’s arm, and they turn to her as she points to a far wall. “All the art on that wall is for sale. If any capture your interest, please come see me.”

“Thank you,” Will replies as she walks away. He turns to Hannibal with an arched eyebrow, and they wander over to the paint splatter art on the far wall. All of it looks somewhat like graffiti. Will points to one that’s done in lime green and hot pink splatter, turning to Hannibal seriously. “I think that would look wonderful in your study.”

“Do you?” Hannibal replies drolly. “Perhaps I’ll buy it for your living room if you like it so much.”

Will flinches at that, glaring at him with a hard expression. “Do not buy it. Not even as a joke.”

“Would you prefer if I put an offer on the vagina? Everything has a price, I’m sure.”

Will’s eyes narrow on him, and the little grin that cracks Hannibal’s façade makes Will nervous. He wouldn’t put it past Hannibal to spend a few thousand dollars on a joke. “Do not.”

Hannibal leans forward, pressing his lips to Will’s soundly. Will is feeling… well, lightheaded from three glasses of champagne, and he deepens the chaste, public, kiss to something that might be more suitable for a bedroom. Hannibal grins against his mouth, tucking him a little closer in the private-ish nook they’ve found in the gallery. “Doctor Lecter!” someone calls from behind Hannibal. Will pulls away reluctantly, watching Hannibal lick the flavor of him from his lips as they pull apart.

Will turns to find a short, stout, man and a tall, elegant, dark-skinned man standing there just staring at them. The short man is staring at Hannibal like he’s committed a betrayal, while the taller man is just… staring. It’s unnerving, so Will averts his eyes back up to Hannibal’s own. “Franklyn,” Hannibal greets coolly. “Tobias, how nice to see you both.”

He sounds like it’s anything but nice, actually. Franklyn extends a hand to Will, who takes it a bit reluctantly. “Will,” he says as politely as he can.

“How do you know Doctor Lecter?” Franklyn asks, as though he hasn’t just stared at them while they made out in an art gallery.

“Will is my partner,” Hannibal replies, touching the small of Will’s back possessively. 

“Partner?” Franklyn asks miserably. “You’ve never mentioned him while we were in therapy.”

“We aren’t there to discuss me, Franklyn,” Hannibal replies evenly. 

Tobias is… unsettling. Will is picking up a plethora of emotions from the two of them. Franklyn thinks he’s in love with Hannibal, and the scorching jealously he’s got aimed at Will makes him feel anxious. Tobias, on the other hand, feels something for Hannibal. Something deeper and darker than he can put a name to. He says nothing, which makes it more unnerving while he stares and stares.

“Still, you’d think after all this time you’d have mentioned something about him. Unless it’s new? Not that interesting to talk about?” Franklyn asks hopefully, twisting his fingers in the sleeves of his expensive suit. 

Hannibal stares down at him like he’s something that’s stuck to the bottom of his shoe, and Will feels momentarily bad for him. “Neither I’m afraid. We were just leaving, however.”

“Maybe I’ll see you this week at the grocery store?” Franklyn asks while staring up at Hannibal like he hung the stars in the sky. “I need a good baked brie, I think.”

“Perhaps,” Hannibal says distastefully, while Will puts together who the two of them are. He keeps his expression as neutral as he can, as he doesn’t want to give away that Hannibal’s told anyone about them. “Goodnight, gentlemen.”

Hannibal directs them out towards the door, stopping off at Evelyn to tell her goodnight.

Once they’re in the car, Will turns to him with a startled laugh. “Cheese folk?”

“Unfortunately,” Hannibal replies dryly while pulling away from the gallery. “This is out of hand, now. I think I’ll have to refer them elsewhere. He’s ingratiated himself with my friends and makes sure to get an invite to events. I’ll have to speak to them and see that the polite invitations come to an end.”

“He thinks he’s in love with you,” Will says with a smirk. The sheer devotion and adoration from the man regarding Hannibal was almost cloying in it’s desperation.

“I’m aware,” Hannibal sighs. “Tobias feels something towards me, too. I’m uncertain if he wants to kill me or bed me.”

Will laughs, but it’s uneasy. “I can’t tell either, to be honest. Do you really think he’s violent?”

“I do not,” Hannibal assures him. “He’s very likely on the spectrum in some way. When he speaks, he uses the storylines of different operas to explain his emotions. As though he needs them for reference, perhaps.”

“A sign that he’s a sociopath,” Will notes with a wry twist of his lips. 

“I’ve thought something similar,” Hannibal agrees. “However, he doesn’t speak enough to know either way. Even if I ask him questions directly.”

“Weird,” Will says with a shake of his head. “Be careful, okay? Don’t turn your back on him for a minute.”

Hannibal glances at him with a gentle smile on his face. “I’d see him coming from a mile away, beloved.”

Hannibal parks his car, and they head into the house. Will shucks his coat and his blazer, undoing a few more buttons on his shirt while Hannibal takes his own coat off.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” Hannibal asks while wrapping his arms around Will’s waist. 

“Yeah,” Will replies softly, leaning up for a gentle kiss. “I’d need to leave pretty early to take care of the dogs, though.”

“You should have brought them here,” Hannibal chastises him while nibbling down his jawline. “I told you already that I don’t mind them.”

Will groans a little bit as Hannibal’s mouth suckles at the spot just under his ear. “I know,” Will manages to reply. “I just… God,” he breathes while his gorgeous partner grips his ass, tugging their hips closer together.

Hannibal kisses him deeply, tasting him and teasing him with his soft tongue. He tastes like champagne bubbles and something sweet, and Will presses deeper to savor it. His scent, woodsy and clean, is sharp in Will’s nose. 

He fits perfectly in Hannibal’s arms. It’s a strange thought, but he feels encased in him, wrapped tightly in his strong embrace. His lips fit effortlessly against Will’s own, and Will realizes that he tastes like warmth. Like intimacy and passion and Will wants more of it. 

Hannibal’s fingers are deftly removing his button-down, and Will moans into the kiss while they stagger backwards toward Hannibal’s bedroom. They break apart to head up the stairs, and Will laughs when he feels Hannibal’s impatient hands on his waist while they stumble into his bedroom. 

Their clothes are discarded while their mouths roam soft skin, and Hannibal lays back on the bed while Will crawls between his long, long legs. Will laughs when he grips his ankles, urging him to wrap them around his waist. “I feel like they could go around me twice,” he chuckles, his accent twanging a bit from good champagne and feeling completely relaxed in Hannibal’s presence.

Hannibal grins, gripping him between his strong thighs and linking his ankles together behind Will’s back. “Would you like me to try?”

“Kind of,” Will laughs, sliding his hands down the endless expanse of naked leg against him. “God, I could look at you for days.”

He thinks he could, too. Golden and beautiful under him, he’s an absolute vision. Will leans down, dragging their cocks together while parting his mouth with his lips. Hannibal’s fingers lace through his curls, deepening it while Will rocks against him. He’s hyper aware of those long legs around him, his soft heels resting at the back of his thighs. 

Hannibal reaches towards the end table for the bottle of lube, placing it by Will’s hip. Will glances down at it, gnawing his bottom lip as he considers asking for something. “Would you… prep yourself for me?” Will asks meekly. “I want to watch you.”

The scorching look Hannibal gives him could melt a glacier, and Will blushes furiously. “Of course, beloved.”

Hannibal rolls out from under him, and Will settles out against the mattress, watching Hannibal kneel facing away from him. He hears the cap for the lube before long, wet, fingers tease against his entrance. Will’s throat goes dry when Hannibal breaches himself with two fingers, stretching himself and rocking against his own hand. Will wanted to watch, but he can’t sit idly by while the most erotic thing he’s ever seen is happening less than a foot away from him. 

He sits up, touching the stretched rim of muscle with a delicate finger, and Hannibal moans. “Beautiful,” Will breathes, pressing his index finger inside of him gently. Hannibal rocks back against it, and Will feels the constriction of muscle around his fingers as well as Hannibal’s fingers against him.

Hannibal finds the spot inside of himself, and Will knows it by the sharp intake of air through his mouth, the way his narrow waist dips while his spine arches. He regrets asking Hannibal to prep himself, and Will chuckles when he realizes that he wants to be the one to bring Hannibal pleasure. He’s jealous of Hannibal’s own fucking fingers.

Hannibal turns to him with an arched eyebrow, panting through damp, parted, lips. “Something funny?”

“Me,” Will replies while blushing. “I’m jealous of your fingers inside of you right now.”

He lets out a sharp breath, a ghost of a laugh before he withdraws his fingers and presses Will back against the mattress. “We can’t have that, can we?”

Hannibal straddles his waist, slicking his cock with a little more lube before angling Will against his entrance. His sinks over him fluidly, rolling his hips while Will watches the muscles of his abdomen flex and clench under golden skin. “You think we can make this last?” Will grits out while gripping the firm flesh of his thighs. “I want this to last for fucking hours.”

Hannibal chuckles, swiveling his hips as he settles out against Will’s hipbones. “Can’t say I’ve ever tried. Shall we?”

Hannibal keeps their pace as languid as humanly possible. He doesn’t thrust or lift and drop himself. He just… grinds, and it’s mind-numbingly good. Will sits up, wrapping his arms around his waist while suckling against his neck, then his sharp jawline. Hannibal tips his face, dragging their mouths together lazily while undulating over him, and Will sighs into his mouth.

Will loves this. He’s never been one to seek out sexual encounters, not with how awkward they tend to be. He likes it well enough usually. Any awkwardness is debatably worth the feelings and emotions he’s bound to pick up from his partners.

Hannibal is another beast entirely. His mouth is worshipful. His eyes are heavy and intense when he looks at Will. His hands are reverent and adoring against his skin. Everything about him is only interested in Will alone, and it’s never been like that, before. Not once. 

There’s an electric current that passes between them when they’re like this. It feels consuming and enthralling to be adored this way. It’s more than that though because Will feels exactly the same way about Hannibal, too. His beautiful body is covered in a light sheen of sweat as he works himself on Will’s cock, grinding against him hard enough that Will’s balls press against the seam of his ass.

The white bloom of pleasure spreads through his abdomen, and he feels he’s close. He grips Hannibal’s ass in warning, hissing harshly as his balls draw tight. Hannibal stills over him while his tongue licks into his mouth, their fingers trailing over sweat-damp skin.

He presses Will against the mattress and draws himself up, dragging Will’s cock so it’s just barely inside of him. The lurid, wet, sound of the head of Will’s cock being worked by the ring of muscle around Hannibal’s entrance is so fucking hot, and it feels absolutely incredible, even if it’s not quite enough to find release.

Hannibal works just the head of his cock with his body, arching his back beautifully as he rolls his hips in short, tiny, thrusts. “You feel like you were made for me,” Hannibal sighs, swivels his hips back down in one fluid movement. Will groans, thrusting up gently while Hannibal grinds down, and Will reaches for him to drag him down for another wet kiss.

Hannibal stills his grinding abruptly, reaching downwards to grip the base of his cock harshly while hissing against Will’s mouth. He gasps, panting down at Will with a little grin on his mouth. “Sorry,” he chuckles. “You feel too good, beloved.”

“I get it,” Will chuckles, leaning forward to kiss him again.

Their pace stays slow and steady for so long that they’re both a sweating mess against the sheets. Hannibal’s cock is wet from steadily leaking for the last hour, and all Will wants is to sink his mouth around it, taste him and weigh him against his tongue.

Will rolls them over, withdrawing from Hannibal’s extremely wet entrance. Will’s been leaking inside of him too, and the sight of how wet he is between his thighs makes Will groan. Hannibal mewls as he slides down his chest, wrapping his lips around Hannibal’s cock with no teasing. He wants to taste him, and so he does.

He sucks the taste of him from his skin, hollowing his cheeks to roll the weight of him over his tongue. Hannibal keens under him, his knees drawing up while he thrusts into Will’s mouth. Will’s not done with him, though. He just wanted to taste him. 

He crawls back up and slides the head of his cock just past the ring of muscle, gripping himself at the base so he can press the head just inside and then out again. Hannibal is stretched open enough now that it’s not uncomfortable to do so, it’s just raw pleasure.

He sinks back inside, lifting Hannibal’s long legs so he can hit his prostate with every shallow thrust, and Hannibal’s low moans of pleasure sound tortured while he writhes under him. “I have to come, Will,” he begs lowly and desperately. “Please.”

“Anything, Hannibal,” Will pants, turning his face to plant an opened mouth kiss against the side of his knee. “You are so beautiful.”

Will’s hips snap roughly, and Hannibal chokes out a moan while arching his spine deliciously. Will keeps up the pace, gripping Hannibal’s weeping cock in his palm while thrusting inside of him. The little pulses of pleasure detonate into something devastating, and Will gasps while pounding into him, jerking Hannibal’s cock in time with his thrusts.

Hannibal comes between them, bellowing out while clenching wonderfully around Will’s cock. Will keeps aiming for his prostate even as Hannibal finishes, and the gorgeous man under him thrashes, tipping his head back while moaning low in his throat.

Will follows close behind, the intensity of the pleasure making it completely unavoidable anymore. He presses himself deeply to empty himself inside, and Hannibal links his feet around his waist, holding him close as he jerks inside of his body.

Will feels completely fucking boneless afterwards, and he grins while leaning down to lick Hannibal’s spend from his muscled stomach, stroking a nipple to stiffness with his fingers while he laps at him like a contented cat.

Hannibal laughs, gripping his bicep to haul him back up to his mouth where he presses sweet kisses to his lips. Will pulls away, smiling down at the gorgeous man. “Is this what sex is like for normal people all the time?”

Hannibal grins, rubbing his nose against the swell of Will’s cheek. “I imagine that it’s how it should be. I wouldn’t know if it’s how it usually is. It’s never been quite like this for me.”

“Is it possessive of me to say that I’m glad to hear that?” Will laughs, dragging his lips against the damp skin of Hannibal’s jaw.

“It is,” Hannibal smiles exhaustedly while twirling a curl of Will’s hair through his fingers. “But I agree with you entirely, so I can’t fault you for it.”

Will stares down at him while smoothing the dark hair from his forehead. The emotions he’s feeling are huge. Far too big for how long they’ve known one another. Will loves him. He knows it, and it terrifies him. He loves everything about him from his perfect cheekbones to his imperfect teeth. He loves the darkness in him just as much as he loves the kindness, the generosity. He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t immediately notice that Hannibal is staring at him, but he feels something from him. He feels something very similar from Hannibal, and it knocks the wind out of him to understand it.

He breaks the connection they have by tucking his head under Hannibal’s chin, resting his cheek against his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early treat for you guys before Thanksgiving!
> 
> Next chapter is going to be a hard one for our Will, so some fluffy sexy times were in order before that.
> 
> Happy Thanksgiving, darlings. <3


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🟥🟥🟥TRIGGER WARNING. 🟥🟥🟥
> 
> Will goes to a rape/homicide scene, and he goes through it. I've tried my best to keep it vague, but IF this sort of thing triggers you, PLEASE read it with care.

Will wakes up early Sunday morning, but still not as early as Hannibal does. After a quick shower, he brushes his teeth with the toothbrush that’s now found a home for itself alongside Hannibal’s own, and rummages through Hannibal’s drawer for a clean tee shirt he can wear with his slacks from the night before.

It smells like fresh coffee and warm bread when he comes down the stairs, and Will’s stomach growls as he heads into the kitchen. His gorgeous man is at the counter, dressed casually in a gray sweater and black slacks, slicing into something that’s still steaming from the oven.

“Good morning, beloved,” Hannibal says with a little smile on his face. 

Will comes around the counter to kiss that sweet mouth, and Hannibal leans into it. “I hope you don’t mind, but I borrowed a shirt.”

“I don’t mind at all,” he says warmly. “I’ve made breakfast. I don’t know if you have time for it.”

“I have time for you,” Will replies, kissing him softly again. “What’s on the menu?”

“I proofed the rest of the bread dough from last night,” Hannibal grins while uncovering a perfect crusty loaf of bread. “And I gathered a jar of strawberry preserves that I canned in the springtime.”

“Fresh bread and homemade strawberry jam?” Will chuckles. “My Smuckers is not going to taste good after this.”

“I’m not sure I believe it tasted good before this, but I’ll humor you,” he teases. “I made a frittata to go with it. You need a good protein to start your day.”

“Christ, you’re perfect,” Will sighs, pressing another kiss to Hannibal’s shoulder. 

“Pour yourself a coffee while I plate this for us,” Hannibal replies, turning his face to collect a brief kiss that Will eagerly gives him. 

Even the coffee is ridiculously good, and Will moans as he scalds his mouth with it. 

Breakfast is delicious, and Will really, really doesn’t want to leave. He has to though, because he still has to go grocery shopping for the week, and he’s got to get back to Winston and Buster.

“What’s this week look like for you?” Will asks, and he does his best to keep the neediness out of his tone.

Hannibal grips his fingers on the table while sipping his coffee, glancing up at him briefly. “I’m fairly busy,” he says regretfully. “I think I could come by your home Thursday night and leave from there, if that works for you.”

“It’s perfect,” Will replies, leaning back in his seat. “I wish we could laze around today, but I’ve got papers to grade and dogs to take care of.”

“I have a few errands to run today myself,” Hannibal notes, a little moue of distaste twisting his pouting lips. “Otherwise I’d come to your house with you.”

“That would have been nice,” Will says softly. 

“Thursday,” Hannibal promises him, and Will leans forward to kiss him again.

The rest of his day is a blur of grocery shopping, taking his dogs for a long walk, cooking for himself and his dogs, and grading papers. 

He goes to bed early for a lack of anything else to do, and he’s glad he did when his phone rings at 330 in the morning. He clears his throat as he reaches for the phone, answering gruffly. “H’lo?”

“Will,” Jack says, and all Will needs to know is in how he says his name. The scene is bad. He already knows it.

“The Ripper?” Will asks, and the sigh from the other line lets him know it’s not.

“No,” Jack says regretfully. “It’s… another rape homicide. I need you here as soon as you can.”

Will’s stomach flips as he climbs out of bed. “Text me the address. Where is the scene?”

“It’s in Garrison,” he replies. “Just outside of Baltimore. I’ll text you the… approximate address. We’re on the side of a road.”

“I’m over an hour out from there,” Will replies regretfully. “But I’m on my way.”

“See you soon,” Jack replies before he hangs up.

Will gets dressed and feeds his dogs quickly, letting them outside while he gathers the things he’d need for his classes afterwards. 

It’s just after five am when he arrives at the scene, and he knows it's bad because everyone looks incredibly disturbed. Beverly touches his shoulder as he walks past her, and his glances up at her eyes, noting the raw horror he finds there.

He knows it's a rape/murder victim, but he's not prepared for it. Doesn't think anything could have prepared him for it.

One look at the body, and Will almost goes to his knees. 

He stares down at the body, clearing his mind and closing his eyes. He lets the pendulum swing.

And he's fucked up. _Royally_.

Instead of crawling into the killer's mind, he's accidentally opened himself up to the victim. It's him being cut. It's him screaming and trying to claw his way to survival. It's him struggling to stay awake as he bleeds out and a faceless man bites him. Rapes him.

Will lives through it, unlike their victim. 

He doesn't know how long he's been in the mud, completely mute. He doesn't know who is talking to him or trying to get him to come back to them. He can't see anything other than the horror behind his eyelids. He can't feel anything other than the mind-numbing terror of being used and left to die that way.

His eyes don't see what's in front of him. His lungs pull in air and let it out, but he's not aware of it.

He's aware of pain. Darkness. The gut-wrenching despair of knowing he is dying, and someone will be using his body long after he’s gone.

Someone tries to lift him from the mud, but he fights them with all he's got. He doesn't want anyone to touch him, right now. He doesn't want to be held down. He doesn't want to be bit. It's too much, and he folds into the dirt, breathing in the scent of decaying leaves and wet earth. 

He doesn't know how long he's down. Time drifts and ebbs around him. Colors swirl in his vision. His breathing is shallow, and the only conscious thought he really has is that he’s cold. So fucking cold.

"Will?" someone says to his side. He knows that voice. He blinks, and a shadow passes in front of his eyes. "Will, come back to me, beloved. Come back."

"Hannibal," he sobs, but he doesn't see him yet. He's still being held down. Still being hurt. 

"Will," a gentle hand touches his cheek, and the scent that goes with the touch lets Will know that he's safe. He's alive. Safe. Spicy cedar and citrus. Hannibal.

He turns his face into the hand, and then he's being lifted from the ground. He's suddenly engulfed in the scent of him, and Will buries his face into the heat of a warm neck, breathing it in like it's the only thing keeping him alive. He's put down on something, and there's a blanket being wrapped around his shoulders. His eyes focus and unfocus. 

_Hannibal._

He realizes he's having difficulty seeing because he's crying, and Hannibal wipes at his tears as he wraps himself around the other man. He's on the trunk of a car, it looks like. 

Hannibal holds him while he cries, and he soothes him with gentle hands. "You're alright, Will. You're here with me. You're safe. I have you," he drones on. Will latches on the lilting cadence of his voice and sighs against his neck, gripping his coat in desperate fingers. 

It takes an embarrassingly long time for him to come back to himself and when he does, his eyes are swollen and his throat hurts. He must have been screaming. He didn't even realize.

"Why are you here?" Will rasps out, still wrapped around him like a snake. 

Hannibal continues rubbing his back and he presses a soft kiss to his cheek. "Jack called me. You listed me as your emergency contact."

Will blushes hotly as he nestles back into his embrace. He’d forgotten that he did that. "You're all I have in the world."

Hannibal kisses his face again, squeezing him a little tighter in response. "What happened?"

Will grips his coat, and he's more aware now that people are watching him. Watching them. He's officially a fucking side-show, and he's morosely embarrassed. He wants to unwrap himself from Hannibal, but he can't. He won't.

"I got into her head instead of his," he says, and his voice is detached. Blank. "I didn't focus, and then everything he did was happening to me."

"Will," Hannibal sighs. His hand resumes rubbing Will's back as he presses another kiss to his temple. "I imagine that hasn't happened before this."

Will shakes his head exhaustedly. "No, I'm usually very careful. The sight of her body, though," Will shivers. "I was distracted. I should have waited."

"If you can let me go, I'll speak to Jack and we can leave this place."

Will nods, but his limbs won't let go. He's telling himself to, but he can't. "Just another minute," Will pleads.

"Of course, beloved," Hannibal soothes him. 

"Thank you," Will breathes against his warm neck. "Thank you for coming."

"Nothing could have kept me away, Will," he says lowly against Will's ear. "When Jack called and told me it was an emergency regarding you, I nearly collapsed. Not that finding you like this was any better."

"Jack is probably going to fire me," Will sighs, and someone clears their throat to the side of them. Will pulls away a bit from Hannibal's embrace, and Jack looks... a little uncomfortable. "You're not getting fired for this, Will. It takes time. I've had people come to their first crime scenes and have to be taken out on a stretcher. You're doing fine, aren't you?"

Will nods, biting his lip as he looks away. "I'm still sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for," Jack assures him. "Take the rest of the day. Get yourself cleaned up. I'll see you tomorrow, and we can go over the photos if you're ready to."

Will nods, and Jack turns to Hannibal. "Thank you for coming Dr. Lecter. I was worried about him."

"If he ever needs me, please call. I'll be here as soon as I can," Hannibal assures him, and Will blushes as he tips his face away. As much as he might've made a scene today, he doesn't like being talked about like he's not in the room. He's angry, but not at Hannibal. Maybe not even at Jack, either. Just... pissed off that he's fucked up this royally at his new job. Hannibal helps him off the trunk of his car and opens the passenger side door for him. 

"I'm covered in mud," he sighs, looking down at his stained and ruined clothes. "Your Bentley."

"It's a car, Will," Hannibal smiles softly. "Please, get in."

Will climbs in hesitantly, and Hannibal comes to the driver's side, cranking the heat. "I'm going to take you to my house. It's closer. If that's alright?"

Will nods, and Hannibal pulls away from the scene. Every mile between himself and the body makes Will feel a little lighter. A little less attached to it. He's still most likely in shock, but he's breathing a little easier. The scent of Hannibal's cologne in the car lulls him, and he's almost drifting off when Hannibal touches his arm. "We're here, beloved."

Will sits up stiffly, rolling the ache from his shoulder where he landed in the dirt.

They head into the house, and Hannibal takes his shoes off for him. "A hot shower would do you some good, I think."

Will shivers at the thought of being... naked, right now. He doesn't know if he could stand it. He glances over to Hannibal, who's watching his face with so much... affection and concern evident in every one of his features. Will loves him. He knows it right down to his bones that he loves the man in front of him. He can't say it yet, but he thinks Hannibal knows. Just like Will knows that Hannibal must love him, too. "I don't want to be alone."

"You won't be," Hannibal assures him. He takes Will gently by his wrist and drags him upstairs and into the grand master bathroom. The huge shower is big enough for probably six people, with jets coming out from the walls and the ceiling. Hannibal gets the shower cranking, before turning to Will. 

Hannibal peels him out of his mud-crusted flannel, throwing it directly into the trash bin behind him. Will's already certain that his slacks are going in the trash, too, and Hannibal unbuckles his belt, dragging his pants down his legs. Will fidgets, and he's frustrated with himself that he's nervous. Nothing happened to him. He keeps reminding himself of that as Hannibal strips him down. "I'm making you uncomfortable," Hannibal sighs.

"No," Will assures him with a shake of his head. "It's not you that’s in my head. I need you here, Hannibal. I need to know it's you."

"It is me, Will," Hannibal sighs. "Look at me."

Will glances up, and his breath leaves him as he watches Hannibal strip out from his suit. It takes forever, as there's so many damned buttons. His blazer, his waistcoat, his cufflinks, his button-down. Finally, a muscular chest, expanding and contracting as he unbuckles his belt then slides the leather out. His slacks are unbuttoned. His shoes are toed off. Will watches him attentively as he exposes more and more skin, his abdomen clenching as he peels his slacks from his long legs. He's glorious when he's in a suit, but he's absolutely beautiful as nature made him. He's not aroused, and Will realizes this is the first time he's seeing him like this.

Hannibal pulls him into the hot spray, and Will melts against his chest as Hannibal rubs a bar soap over his arms and chest. He scrubs the mud from under Will's fingernails and he soothes out the tension in his back and shoulders with clever fingers. He's diligent in his attention, but he's not pressing for more. Will is grateful for it, as he's not sure if he wants more, right now.

He washes Will's hair, and the clean scent of Hannibal fills the steamy space. Will takes in greedy lung-full's, as it smells just like the nape of Hannibal's neck. "I'm gonna smell like you, darlin'," he drawls, his eyes close and his mouth moves slower with how relaxed he feels.

Hannibal presses a damp kiss to the side of his neck, and Will tips his head to allow it. His strong hands keep working out sore muscles, touching him softly, and reminding him that he's alive. He's alright. He's with someone he loves so dearly he never thought it would be possible. "Sometimes," Hannibal says softly against his ear. His tone is deep and rich, his accent lilting his words deliciously. "You smell like me, regardless. When you leave here and you've been in my bed, in my arms, in my home... you leave, and you smell just like I do. I can't tell you how that pleases me, beloved."

The little moan of approval from Will is involuntary, and he knows it has to do with the hot press of him against his back, the soft lips that brush his neck as he speaks. There's a possessive little shiver that runs through him with the implication of his words. Will was his. He liked people to know it, even on a subconscious level. 

Will could understand that. If there was a way to deflect people from approaching Hannibal romantically, he would do it.

His skin is pink and clean when Hannibal turns the water off, toweling him dry with gentle hands and soft kisses to his neck, his shoulder. Hannibal drags him into his bedroom where he fluffs out a clean pair of pajama pants and hands them to Will, who pulls them on while the other man rummages through a drawer for a clean sweater. 

He pulls on the red sweater, too, and even though the clothes are a little bit too big, he's ridiculously comfortable in them. It's like being surrounded by Hannibal and his scent, and Will sighs as he sits on the side of the bed. "It was bad, Hannibal."

"I know," he replies softly, scooting Will back on the bed so he can join him. Will didn't even realize that he'd gotten dressed, and the sight of him in pajama pants only draws Will's attention for a moment. Hannibal folds him into his arms, rubbing his back. 

"He cut her wrists and her ankles," Will says softly. "He cut her, and let her think he was allowing her get away. She slowed down with the blood loss, and then he attacked her. She died before he... finished."

"That would be a pathology similar to those who engage in necrophilia. Perhaps our killer doesn't like the idea of them being dead when he starts."

"He's a monster," Will replies. "He's disgusting. I need to get my shit together so I can catch him. He can't keep doing this. I have to stop him, Hannibal."

"I agree," Hannibal sighs. "But you are staying right where you are. You need fluids and you need to eat something. You were in shock when I got to you. I still think you should have been brought to a hospital."

"I'm exactly where I want to be," Will kisses his throat. "Right here with you."

Hannibal grips him a little tighter, and Will wiggles himself closer, tucking his head under his chin. They lay quietly for a bit, and Will touches his chest, his arms. He revels in his smell and his gentle touch. Will's so relaxed after about an hour that he drifts off to sleep.

When Hannibal wakes him much later, he’s stiff and groggy. His neck is sore from being held in Hannibal’s arms for hours, but he’s not about to complain about that. "I'd like you to come downstairs. Eat something. Drink something. Would you do that?"

Will nods, and it feels like he's been drugged with how tired and lethargic he feels. 

He sits at the island while watching Hannibal steep tea and gather ingredients for dinner from the fridge. His eyes drift over to the black meat that Hannibal puts on the counter. "What are you making for dinner?"

"Silkie chicken in broth," he replies while chopping celery. "A black-boned bird, prized in China for its medicinal values since the seventh century."

Will smiles gently, biting his lip to keep from laughing. "You're making me chicken soup?"

Hannibal pauses in his dicing, flicking his eyes up to Will with a hint of exasperation. "Yes," he concedes eventually. He turns away to pour Will a cup of tea, arching an eyebrow as he slides it across the counter. "It is good for the soul, or so they say."

"What's this?" Will asks, smelling the slightly floral scent of the tea.

Hannibal continues chopping vegetables before adding it to a cast iron dutch oven on the stove. The smell of garlic, onion, and butter make Will's mouth water. "Chamomile tea with honey. Chamomile has calming properties; it also aids in sleep."

"You've been so good to me," Will swallows around a lump in his throat. "Thank you."

"Anything, Will," he replies, and his eyes are heavy as they regard him. "I'd do anything for you."

"I..." Will stalls out. It's too early to say it. It's too early to feel it. He eats his words and back tracks. "I... would do anything for you, too."

"I'm pleased to hear it," Hannibal replies with a little smile playing on his lips. His hands move around the counter without much thought from him. "There may come a time where I remind you of that."

"Someday when you tell me whatever it is that's so bad?" Will replies with a roll of his eyes. "I'm not going anywhere, Hannibal."

"You can't imagine how much I hope that to be true," he replies. 

Will watches him assemble the pot of soup, and it already smells incredible. "Can we talk about the case, or will you not let me?"

Hannibal arches an eyebrow at that, glancing up at Will with a resigned expression. "We may discuss it, but I reserve the right for a mandatory subject change if I see you are upset. Are we in accord?"

"Yeah," Will says with a little chuckle. His beautiful man could be so damned proper sometimes. "We're in accord."

"Alright," Hannibal nods, scraping carrots, celery, and onion into the pot. "What would you like to discuss?"

Will shifts in his seat, scratching idly at his chin. "So, this was victim number four. The first victim, Grace Beaumont, was killed after repeated attacks. He kept her alive for hours and raped her several times before he killed her. He cut her just like the others, but he didn't attack her as she bled out. His other three victims were raped as they bled out, and they were attacked the one time as they died. So, to me, it seems like Grace is the golden ticket. The one that he really wanted, and now he's trying to recreate the feeling with other victims."

Hannibal considers that, tipping his head as he chops the meat. "Are the victims similar in appearance?"

"Yeah," Will nods. "All thin, all have brown eyes and long dark hair. They're remarkably alike, but Grace for some reason was the catalyst."

"Where did she go missing?" Hannibal asks.

"Her college," Will replies. "Went out on a Friday to visit her friend, and she made it there fine. Her car was found back in the college campus lot, but no one saw her after she left to head to her friend’s house. We interviewed her friends, boyfriend, father, janitors, lawn people, you name it. She was found Monday morning on the side of the highway. It’s a huge amount of time to go missing. How would we look into everyone she might have spoken to? It’s impossible.”

"If you're trying to find a killer at a college campus, it is," Hannibal agrees. "Have you interviewed anyone around her parent's house? Maybe that’s where he saw her for the first time?"

Will's mouth falls open, considering that. He sips his tea, glancing up at Hannibal in surprise. "No one went to her parent's house aside from interviewing her father, who was ruled out as a suspect. It wasn't a consideration because everyone assumes she was taken at the college."

"She might have been," Hannibal agrees. "However, it doesn't mean that he didn't first notice her in her home."

"I need to talk to the neighbors," Will says, standing from the seat abruptly. "He coveted her. She wasn’t some random girl. He watched her, wanted her, stalked her. What do we covet, Hannibal?” 

Hannibal shakes his head, biting his lip. "We want what we see."

Will nods, biting his lip while twisting his fingers nervously. "We covet things we see every day. What if he's watched Grace for some time, now? What if he stalked her for months? A neighbor might have seen a random car out on the street, something like that. I have to go call Jack," Will says, walking over to grab his coat.

Hannibal grips him by his shirtsleeve, hauling him back to the stool. "You'll sit and you'll eat something," he says sternly. "Interviews can be done in the morning, Will. Drink your tea, and sip your iced water, please."

Will pinches his mouth, glaring up at him from his spot at the counter. "I am not a fucking child, Hannibal."

"You were in shock barely eight hours ago. You should be in a hospital with IV fluids attached to your arm. I am worried about you, Will."

"He's killed four girls," Will reminds him, still glaring at him. It's not an impressive glare though, because his shoulders are slumped, and his posture is just-shy of sleeping at the counter. 

"Be that as it may, I don't care about their lives. I care about your life, and you need fluids and rest. You could go into kidney failure, DIC... Will, I cannot risk you. I can't."

Will sighs at that, and his glare lessens a bit as he looks up at Hannibal. "Of the two of us, someone should take care of me. I'm glad it's you," Will chuckles. "Let me just call Jack, then."

Hannibal nods, and Will goes to the counter to get his phone.

Jack answers on the third ring, "How are you doing, Will?" he asks immediately.

"Much better, thank you," he replies awkwardly. "I, uh... I was thinking that I'd like to go tomorrow morning and interview some of the neighbors around Grace Beaumont's house. It's something that no one's done."

Jack is silent for a second on the other end. "Will, she was taken from the college."

"I get that," Will replies. "But what if he followed her there from her house? What if he watched her for a long time before that? Maybe he sat outside her house. Maybe someone will remember a car or something like that."

Jack sighs, and Will knows he's frustrated. "I'll cover your lectures for the morning," he says finally. "Make sure to take note of who you talked to and their street address. We need it for the file."

"Will do," he replies. "It's a long shot. I know it is, but..."

"You've got a feeling," Jack supplies.

"Yeah, a feeling."

"It's more than I have, so go ahead," Jack replies, and Will knows he's scowling. "If anyone remembers anything at all, you call me the moment you hear it. You get me?"

"I'll call, Jack," Will sighs. "Otherwise I'll be in for my 2pm lecture."

"Talk to you soon, Will."

Will ends the call, and he seriously hopes he gets a lead. After his... scene today, he needs a win. He heads back into the kitchen and Hannibal looks up as he takes a seat. "What did he think of your theory?"

"He's letting me do it because he doesn't have any better ideas," Will replies, sipping his tea that tastes like floral honey. "So, in other words, he thinks it's a waste of time. Maybe it is, but I don't see the harm in asking around."

Hannibal nods from his place at the stove, stirring the pot of soup that smells completely divine at this point. "Please be careful, beloved," he says softly, turning to Will with a worried expression. "I'm almost tempted to take a half-day to come with you. I don't like you going to houses alone."

"I'm only asking if anyone's seen anything suspicious," Will retorts. "I'm not arresting anyone."

"I understand that," Hannibal replies gruffly, turning to Will with an arch expression. "It's good in your line of work to assume the worst in everyone. I don't want to lose you because you are too trusting, or even worse, too forgiving."

"If I come face to face with this guy..." Will trails off, taking a tentative sip of his tea. "Forgiveness won't be the issue."

“If that’s supposed to placate me,” Hannibal sighs, and Will shakes his head.

“No, it’s just the truth,” Will says softly. “He’s not some poor guy that’s trying to pay for his daughter’s chemo, Hannibal.”

“All I’m asking is for you to be careful,” Hannibal replies eventually while adding things to the delicious-smelling pot of soup. “Please.”

Will sighs while taking another sip of his tea. “I will,” he promises him instead of arguing. “This tea tastes like flowers. I don’t know how I feel about that.”

The little huff of breath from the other man might be a laugh. “Chamomile is a flower. Do you not like it?”

“Not really,” Will shrugs. “It’s hot though, so it feels good.”

“The broth-”

“ _Soup_ ,” Will teases, and Hannibal sighs.

“It will be done in a few minutes. You can set that aside if you don’t care for it,” Hannibal tells him. 

“I don’t think I can stay here tonight,” Will says in a small voice while pushing the rest of his tea away. “I need to get home to the dogs, Hannibal.” 

“I'll take you back to your car after dinner,” Hannibal replies with a small smile. "Then we can both head there." 

The soup is ridiculously good, and Will has two bowls of it while Hannibal gathers up a few things he’d need for the morning. Hannibal packs him a container of soup for lunch the next day before they clean up, and then they head to Will’s car. 

Will is almost falling over by the time they get to his house, so Hannibal nudges Will behind his shoulder blades, pushing him towards the stairs. “I’ll take care of Winston and Buster,” he says softly. “Go rest, please. I’ll be upstairs shortly.” 

“Thank you,” Will replies, turning to him to press a kiss to a sharp cheekbone, and Hannibal smiles softly. 

Will falls asleep almost as soon as his head hits his pillow. He wakes up in the middle of the night, startled awake by his own nightmares. His panic subsides when he realizes where he is, and whose arms are wrapped around his body. 

_Hannibal._

He breathes in the scent of him, calming himself with the scent of his cologne against his nose. His lips press a kiss to his throat in silent thanks and he wraps his arms around his partner's middle, holding him close. 

The feel of his heartbeat against his chest lulls him, and he's able to drift back to sleep. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EXTRA long chapter for you guys today. 
> 
> WARNING: HERE BE DARK WILL GRAHAM.
> 
> Is that a necessary warning, though? It's like warning for cannibalism in this fandom. Like no kidding, right?

When Will wakes up the next morning, he’s alone. He heads to the bathroom, noting the scent of Hannibal’s cologne in the air. Hannibal must have just showered, too. He takes care of his morning routine and gets dressed in a warm sweater and slacks, seeing as how he’d be outside trekking up and down a street for the morning.

When he comes downstairs, his dogs have been fed already, and Hannibal is ushering them out the front door, talking to them in a low voice. “Good morning,” Will says softly. 

Hannibal turns to him with a smile once his dogs are outside. “There’s coffee, beloved.”

While the lure of fresh coffee is tempting, the sight of his gorgeous partner in a blue, pinstripe, three-piece suit is much more alluring. He walks over to him, careful not to rumple his perfect exterior, and leans up for a kiss. Hannibal smiles against his mouth, kissing him back with soft lips and a sweet tongue. When Will pulls away, his face is flushed. “You’re so good to me. Thank you.”

“I just put grinds in the machine,” Hannibal teases, leaning in to nip at Will’s shaved jawline. “No work at all, really.”

“You know what I mean,” Will sighs, turning his face to capture his soft lips again. 

“I threw out your Smuckers,” Hannibal admits sheepishly while Will purses his lips. “I had a few jars of the preserves that I made, and I brought them here. Use that instead, please. At least it doesn’t contain added sugars.”

“You’re a control freak,” Will chuckles. 

“You’ve no idea,” Hannibal replies dryly. “I brought the leftover frittata from yesterday morning as well. It’s in the oven and should be warm enough to eat in a few minutes.”

Will pours himself a coffee while Hannibal removes the leftovers from his oven, chuckling over how he really preheated an oven instead of using a microwave. 

Even his little quirks are endearing, Will muses.

Will pours himself another coffee in his thermos once they’re done eating, and Hannibal hands him a small cooler with leftover soup in it. “It should keep just fine in the car while you wander house to house,” Hannibal grins.

Will grips him by the lapels of his blazer, pulling him gently for another kiss by the door. “Perfect man,” he sighs, and Hannibal rolls his eyes. 

“Far from it,” he replies with a smirk, but he leans in and kisses Will again. “I’ll see you on Wednesday night. I’ll come straight here after my last appointment at six. If it’s not too much trouble, please call me tonight. I’d like to know that you’re home and safe.”

Will nods, pressing one more kiss to his mouth. “I’ll call, darlin’.”

After Hannibal leaves, Will heads inside to gather his papers for work, as well as a clean notebook and pen to take notes during his interviews. He puts the address for Grace’s parents into his GPS, and then he heads to that neighborhood.

He arrives just after nine in the morning, and he glances at Grace’s parents’ house, noting which houses have a direct line of sight. There are six total, and eight if you count the ones that might have seen something. Will sighs and gathers his badge as well as the notebook and pen. He decides to start with the houses on the left.

He goes to the first four houses that have a direct line of sight, and no one has seen or heard a single thing. He asks pointed questions about random cars or loitering people, but no one seems to recall anything at all. He takes their names and addresses down, and he writes down exactly what they say, but none of it is useful.

His empathy is open because he’s trying to catch anyone in a lie, but no one is lying about anything. The effort it takes to keep his empathy open in that way is causing him a lancing headache, but he finishes the other two houses in the same fashion, and no one’s seen or heard a damned thing.

He decides to give the two houses on the outskirts of the neighborhood an interview, too. Even though he doesn’t feel especially hopeful.

He rings the doorbell, shifting his feet awkwardly on the porch when a man opens the door. The first thing Will notices is how… big the man is, and Will steps back just a single step in surprise. 

“Can I help you?” he asks gruffly.

“Good morning,” Will replies while holding out his ID badge. “My name is Will Graham. I’m a special agent with the FBI. I was wondering if I could speak to you for a few minutes?”

Something passes over the man’s face, but he lets Will into his house.

Will’s gift is catching on something. Panic. Regret. Anxiety. All of it is lacing up his throat, clogging it with emotions that aren’t his. “What can I do for you?” he asks while heading towards his small kitchen.

Will licks his lips by the doorway, watching his every move. “I’m investigating the murder of Grace Beaumont,” he says, and the little wave of grief that passes over him is not imagined. Will needs to call Jack. He needs to leave right now.

He steps back and the man steps out from the kitchen, blocking the doorway with his massive body. “Shame what happened to her,” the man says. 

“It is,” Will replies softly, glancing around to see if there’s an obvious exit. “Did you know her?”

The man tips his head, and the small smile he gives Will makes his blood go cold. His left incisor is missing. Will backs up while the man steps forward, and panic makes Will reach blindly for his gun.

He has it out and pointed at the man in less than a second, his hands shaking while he clicks the safely off. “Stay right where you are, sir,” Will says in a commanding tone.

“How did you figure out it was me?” he asks, stepping away from Will a few steps, raising his hands cautiously. He puts a reasonable distance between himself and Will, doing his best to seem as unassuming as possible.

“We didn’t,” Will replies. “This was just surveillance interviews. Stay right where you are.”

“I loved her,” he says passionately, gripping his broad chest in a large hand. His dark eyes are flat, though. Emotionless. “God, did I love her. She was always going out with that sniveling little shit. Greg. She deserved better, but she never noticed me. Never. You know how hurtful it is to love someone like that and have them not even look at you? I thought I could make her love me, but she hated me afterward. I’ve… missed her.”

Will shakes his head while his stomach turns sour. This man was a monster. A fucking monster. He didn’t deserve to go to prison or have the comfort of an attorney presented to him. “You killed all those other girls because you missed her?” Will asks in disbelief, and the man sighs. 

“Nothing I’ve done has brought her back,” he shrugs. “If at first you don’t succeed,” he chuckles. “One of them was a lesbian, from what I saw on the news. Look how far I’ve strayed.”

Rage tenses Will’s limbs, and before he even realizes what he’s done, he’s popped off four rounds into the man’s chest.

His finger squeezes the trigger, and it feels so fucking good. The man stumbles back while blood sprays the sunny yellow wall behind him. His large hand comes to press on the four wounds to his chest, and his mouth is opened in surprise. 

Will watches him gurgle on his own blood while he dies. He stands over him, watching intently as the blood pools and spreads through the gray rug under his body. He wouldn’t hurt anyone else. Will just made damned sure of it.

He waits until the man is dead before he calls it in.

The rest of the morning is a blur of crime scene techs, police, and FBI milling around the house. Will sits numbly on the porch with a blanket around his shoulders, and Jack joins him. “He blocked my way out,” Will says softly. “He kept coming towards me, and I was telling him to stay where he was. I had to, Jack. I had to.”

Jack sighs to his side. “I know, Will. You did good. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you caught him. He won’t hurt anyone else.”

“I killed him,” Will admits distractedly, turning to Jack with a blank expression. “I killed him.”

“You had to,” Jack responds evenly. “No one faults you for this. No one expected this.”

“What was his name?” Will asks eventually. He should at least know the name of the man he killed.

“Owen McAdory,” Jack replies. “He’s lived here for eleven years. The neighbors thought he was a great guy.”

“He told me he was in love with Grace,” he says softly. “He said it like it excused what he did to her.”

Jack grimaces at that, placing a gentle hand on Will’s shoulder. “Do you need to go to the hospital, Will? Are you hurt at all?”

Will shakes his head, glancing down at his shaking hands. “No. I’m… He never got close enough. I need to give a statement to someone, don’t I?” he asks absently.

“You just did,” Jack retorts, gripping his shoulder a bit before letting it go. “Someone can drive you home, if you’d like.”

“No,” Will says immediately. “I can get myself home. In a minute or so, though.”

“Take your time,” Jack tells him. “I’ll just sit with you for a few minutes. Okay?”

“Sure,” Will nods, but his eyes are trailed off towards the body bag being put in a coroner van.

He heads home a few hours later, but it barely feels like he’s present for it. When he gets to his house, he takes a scalding shower because he feels like there’s blood on him, even though there isn’t.

The rest of the afternoon passes almost in a daze, and Will is shocked when he realizes it’s dark out. He notes that it’s just after eight almost absently. He’s been staring at his wall for four hours.

He killed someone. He took a life that he didn’t need to take. The only regret he manages to feel about it is that he wishes he’d have cut him like Owen did to his victims.

A gun wasn’t the end that he deserved.

He hears his front door being unlocked, and Will turns towards the noise with a blank expression on his face. Hannibal walks into his living room hesitantly, the corners of his mouth tipped down. “Will,” he sighs. “Are you alright, beloved?”

Will nods his head from his place on the couch, and Hannibal sits close by his hip. “How did you…?”

“It’s all over the news,” Hannibal replies. “Why didn’t you call? Better yet, why didn’t Jack call?”

“Didn’t think of it. And Jack… I don’t know,” he admits with a shrug. “I killed someone.”

“I know,” Hannibal says softly. He takes Will’s hand in his own, gently stroking his wrist with his long fingers. “Did he hurt you?”

Will chuckles at that, turning to Hannibal with tears in his eyes. “He never got close enough.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Hannibal says gently. “Will, you did what you had to do. I know it’s difficult to grasp, but you made the right decision.”

How could he tell Hannibal that the only regret he has is that he wishes he’d have made McAdory suffer? Hannibal would leave him. No one would stay with someone that unstable. “I know,” he says instead. “It’s still… I still killed someone.”

“And you spared countless more women from suffering his hand,” Hannibal assures him. 

“I’m not a hero,” Will replies dryly. “So very far from it. You didn’t need to come all this way.”

“I most certainly did,” he replies immediately. “I wish someone would have called me. I hate to think you’ve been… like this for hours.”

“Like this?” Will wonders, turning to Hannibal with a curious expression.

The other man licks his lips, his eyes flicking across Will’s face. “In shock.”

Will snorts, “I am not in shock.”

“Then what’s wrong?” Hannibal asks, tipping Will’s chin up to look him in the eyes.

Will holds his gaze, swallowing tightly. He feels sated. He feels like he’s done something he’s always wanted to do. He didn’t step into the head of a killer and take it for a spin. He created his own narrative. 

He asks himself if he enjoyed what he did, and the beast in him howls. He loved it.

“Just coming to terms with what my actions mean about me,” Will replies eventually. “It’s… surprising.”

Hannibal’s mouth quirks ever so gently, and Will wonders if it’s a grin. If it is, it’s not one that Hannibal knows he’s doing. 

Hannibal ushers him to bed and climbs in with him once they’re in their boxers. The silence is almost deafening in the quiet of the dark bedroom, but Will isn’t inclined to fill it with small talk. He has no idea what to say to Hannibal. 

Will is almost certain that Hannibal’s fallen asleep when he speaks. “My sister,” he says softly. Hesitantly. Will turns on the bed to look at him, watching the way the moonlight spills over his sharp features. “I’ve told you that she died.”

“Yes,” Will says softly, waiting for him to continue.

“There was a man on our estate,” Hannibal begins, shifting gently against the mattress. “He took care of the grounds, repaired things when they needed it. After my father passed, he… took an interest in Mischa. I didn’t know he was dangerous, otherwise I would never have let him near her. He killed her, Will. I caught him in the barn with her body.”

“Hannibal,” Will sighs, reaching out to touch his cheekbone gently. Hannibal grips his fingers, sliding them forward to press a kiss to his palm. 

“I… I was enraged. I took the pitchfork that was hung on the wall, and I stabbed him. I killed him for killing Mischa, and it felt…”

“Good,” Will replies. He knows. Hannibal knows, and he understands. The relief is like a weight being lifted from Will’s chest, and his breath leaves him in a stutter. “It feels good to kill those that deserve it.”

“Yes,” Hannibal agrees softly. “I watched him bleed out in the hay. I watched his last breath leave his body. I was only thirteen.”

“I’m glad you killed him,” Will admits softly, and Hannibal’s mouth parts gently. “I killed Owen, Hannibal. He wasn’t coming towards me. He wasn’t threatening me. I just… wanted to. So, I killed him.”

“Do you feel regret, Will?” Hannibal wonders, and Will sighs while inching closer to him on the bed.

“Yes,” Will confesses in a breath. “I should have cut him like he did those girls. He deserved worse than a few bullets.”

Hannibal watches him with an unreadable expression, his eyes dipping to his mouth then back up again. “It feels good to kill those who deserve it.”

“Yes,” Will agrees easily. “It felt… good to kill Owen. I’m just as much of a monster as he was.”

Hannibal glides his fingers across Will’s cheek, trailing them softly against his jaw. “Do you think me a monster for killing the man who took Mischa from me?”

“No,” Will replies immediately. “I would have killed him, too.”

“Then why are you held to a different standard than I?” Hannibal wonders. “What I did is no different than what you’ve done.”

“Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life,” Will replies. “Who am I to give it to them?”

“Did…” Hannibal arches an eyebrow at him, smiling gently. “Did you just quote Gandalf?”

Will chuckles, closing his eyes while Hannibal smooths the curls from his forehead. “I’ve been thinking of that quote all day.”

“This isn’t a fairytale, Will,” Hannibal replies. “He deserved what you gave him. You are not a monster for dealing out death and judgement.”

“It feels… strange,” Will admits softly. “I don’t feel remorse, Hannibal. Not for what I did, anyway.”

“You feel remorse for how you killed him,” Hannibal replies while gliding his fingers along Will’s collarbone.

“Not just that,” Will says with a rough swallow. “I… I liked killing him. I enjoyed it, Hannibal. Whoever I was before I pulled that trigger… he’s gone. I regret it because what kind of a man enjoys doing what I did?”

“God must enjoy killing,” Hannibal replies with an arch of his eyebrow. “He does so indiscriminately.”

“I am not God,” Will says with a huff while his own fingers trail through the chest hair on Hannibal’s sternum. 

“No,” Hannibal agrees while carding his fingers through Will’s curls. “But you are created in His likeness. Who are we to deny our baser instincts?”

“What happens if I catch another one, Hannibal?” Will says harshly. “I can’t… kill all of them. Christ, who am I?”

“I don’t think you’ll be inclined to kill all of them,” Hannibal says soothingly. “You… empathized with a victim on this case. A mistake I don’t think you’ll make again. You were compromised, Will. It won’t happen again.”

Will doesn’t know how to respond to that. He doesn’t know how to say what he’s feeling in that moment. He killed a terrible person, and yeah, that makes him feel good. How can he admit that he also just enjoyed watching him bleed out? He enjoyed it as its own separate pleasure, completely removed from the act of vigilantism. There’s no way to admit that. Not without making Hannibal concerned enough to leave him or report him. 

He decides to say nothing.

Hannibal seems to sense his reluctance to say anything else, and he wraps Will in his arms, tucking him close against his side. “You don’t have a change of clothes for tomorrow,” Will notes absently while tugging himself closer to Hannibal’s side.

Long fingers lace through his curls, massaging his scalp gently. “I canceled my early appointments. I’ll go in for eleven.”

“I still want to try to head in for eight,” Will sighs. 

“I’m certain that no one expects you in for eight, Will,” Hannibal says softly. “Why not sleep in a bit? Get some rest.”

“I hate to break this to you, but I very likely won’t be sleeping anyway,” he groans. “Not that I don’t want to.”

“What else still needs to be done in your house?” Hannibal asks suddenly, and completely randomly. Will frowns against his chest, tipping his head up to look Hannibal in the eyes.

“What?”

“Tell me about what else you’d like to do, here,” Hannibal presses again. “I’m curious.”

Will chuckles as he settles out on his chest again, lacing his fingers through the dark hair there. “You’re trying to distract me.”

“Perhaps,” Hannibal presses a kiss to his temple, holding him close. “I’d still like to hear it.”

Will lets out a long breath, tipping his face towards the other man’s neck to breathe him in. “If I tell you, I don’t want it magically done for me. You get me?”

“Perfectly.” 

“Okay,” Will sighs. “I want to fix and clean the fireplace. It would be nice to come home and warm the downstairs with a fire. I’ve got to rip out all those over-grown bushes in the front and back yards, clear them out a bit. There’s a huge vine that’s crawled up the side of the house, and it’s taken out some shingles. I’ve got to replace them and repaint the outside. There’s probably more rotten wood outside, too, but I’ll find it when I’m scraping the old paint off.”

Hannibal hums. “Not a very long to-do list.”

“I’d like to build some shutters for the windows, too. I think the house needs it. It looks… blank without them. The front porch needs repair, too. A few parts of the railings are weak and rotted, but all the outside work needs to wait until the springtime.”

“What color do you think you’d paint the outside?” Hannibal asks, and Will blinks heavy lids open to consider that.

“Maybe white again?” he says drowsily. “I’m tempted to paint it butter yellow.”

“What color would the shutters be, then?” Hannibal asks, and Will’s mouth is slow when he responds.

“Either way, I’ll stain’em dark,” he replies. He hums in his throat, “It’ll match the front door, when I get around to it.”

“I like the idea of the yellow,” Hannibal says softly, and Will hums.

He doesn’t know what else is said, because he drifts off to sleep.

When he wakes up, Hannibal is wrapped around him possessively while early morning sunlight pours in through his window. He grunts, wiggling in Hannibal’s arms so he can turn his body to face the other man. 

Hannibal blinks awake slowly, his amber eyes beautiful in the early morning light. His mouth is pitched downwards, and Will smooths a finger against the corner of his mouth. “Did you sleep okay?” he asks.

“You got up from the bed in your sleep last night,” Hannibal tells him, and his voice is like gravel. “You were trying to go outside, but I steered you back to bed. You had a rough night, beloved.”

Will feels tired, but he kind of always feels tired. He barely notices it anymore. “Thank you for not letting me go in the woods.”

Hannibal smooths his fingers through the curls on his forehead, leaning forward to kiss him softly. Will grips him tighter to himself, deepening the kiss despite their morning breath. Hannibal pulls away, sighing. “Do you remember your dream?”

Will shakes his head. “Did I say anything?”

“You said, ‘look how far I’ve strayed,’ over and over again. Does that mean anything to you?”

Will’s mouth snaps shut, and a breath leaves him in a whoosh. “It’s the last thing Owen McAdory said to me before I killed him.”

Hannibal’s face goes suspiciously blank while he cards his fingers through Will’s hair. “You relate to that statement.”

“I don’t relate to that man, Hannibal,” Will says defensively.

“I didn’t say that you did,” Hannibal replies, his tone soothingly soft and gentle. “I merely meant that it fits how you’re feeling after what’s happened.”

Will considers that, realizing that it’s at least partly true. “So what do I do? How can I… work through it?”

“Talk to me,” Hannibal says immediately. “Don’t keep anything bottled up, and I’ll help you through it. You’re not alone, Will.”

Will leans forward to kiss him again, and Hannibal wraps him in his arms, holding him tight against his chest. “The thing you were worried about me knowing,” Will begins, tipping his face to press a kiss to Hannibal’s throat. “Was it what you told me about last night?”

Hannibal goes still around him, his shoulders tensing under Will’s hands. “A part of it,” Hannibal concedes. “I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”

Will is resolved that whatever Hannibal tells him, he won’t go anywhere. He owes Hannibal that much after all that he’s forgiven. If it weren’t for Hannibal, he’d very likely be at his office right now, sifting through bank statements while Freddie Lounds paces the tile floor. He’d be heading home to a fiancée that loves her ex-husband, and a future stepson that hates him.

Instead, he’s in his new house, in a new career that he’s always wanted, in bed with the most beautiful man he’s ever seen in his life. His first paycheck has come in, and he wants to do something nice for him. He just… has no idea what.

They shower together, and Hannibal sends him off to work with a belly full of good eggs and coffee. He’s staying behind to take care of Will’s dogs before leaving himself, and Will is so fucking grateful to him that he doesn’t even know where to begin.

When he gets to work, there are a few reporters milling around. It’s not something he’s considered, and he avoids the whole shitshow by going in through a side entrance. 

Jack snatches him up the moment he’s in the door, steering him towards his office with a firm hand on his shoulder. “How are you doing, Will?”

“Fine,” Will replies while Jack closes his office door. 

“Have a seat,” Jack says while going around his desk to sit in his leather chair. Will sits hesitantly in a yellow leather chair, gnawing his bottom lip nervously. “It was him. We did some testing and everything from the DNA to the bite marks matches up perfectly. We found some evidence in his basement that Grace Beaumont was there. The case is closed, Will.”

Will nods at that, glancing away to the wall behind Jack. “That’s good.”

“You’ve been recommended for a commendation,” Jack says pridefully, and Will grimaces. 

“I’m not an agent,” Will replies dryly.

Jack shrugs at that, smiling gently. “Maybe not, but it looks good for the bureau that we have you on board. You solved this case, Will. You were the key we needed. No one will forget that. You’ve been here a week and look at all the good you’ve done.”

Will sighs, silently wishing he’d have stayed in bed with Hannibal. “I killed him, Jack.”

“In self-defense,” Jack replies forgivingly. “He had a foot and a hundred pounds on you. He would’ve killed you. I would have done the same thing. I wish I would have sent you out with another agent, but it’ll never happen again. I trust your gut, Will. You’ll never be sent out for field work alone again.”

Will nods at that, tipping his face down towards his lap. “I didn’t think I’d find him. I thought… I thought I’d be asking about suspicious cars or people. If I thought for a minute that I’d actually be standing in his kitchen, I’d have asked for help.”

“I know,” Jack replies with a sigh. “There are some hoops to go through, now. You’ll need to be evaluated before you can return to field work.”

“Evaluated?” Will asks with a frown. “You mean therapy.”

He has the decency to at least look apologetic. “Alana Bloom is our trauma counselor on staff. You need to have a few sessions with her so she can clear you.”

“I have Hannibal,” Will replies immediately. “I can talk to him, when I need to.”

“That…” Jack sighs and licks his lips. “He cannot clear you when you’re his significant other, Will. I think you know that, though.”

Will flinches at that, turning his eyes back to Jack’s own. “Does it upset you that he got me this job as my… partner?”

Jack laughs at that, rubbing his jaw absently. “Not at all. You’ve proven your worth, Will. He wasn’t wrong about you. I wish he’d have been honest with me about who you were to him, but… no. He’s a very good man, and a very dear friend. I’m mostly just glad he’s found someone. He’s… a solitary man.”

“He was,” Will agrees with a smile. “But then so was I.”

There’s a beat of silence where neither of them speaks for a few minutes, but it’s not uncomfortable. “Your appointment is at ten with Dr. Bloom. You can resume your lectures in the meantime if you feel comfortable with that.”

“I do,” Will assures him, shifting in his seat.

“Good,” Jack replies with a smile. “You won’t be called out to anymore cases until she clears you, though. I don’t want to see you in the lab or anything like it until she does. Clear?”

“Crystal,” Will sighs. 

His first class drags by, mostly because he’s completely mortified by the students clapping when he walks into the lecture hall. It’s so damned inappropriate that he unintentionally snaps at them, urging them to sit down and stop it right now.

When his class ends at 930, Bev is waiting at the doors, gnawing her bottom lip. “Hey,” she says softly while walking up to him at his desk. “How are you doing?”

Will arches an eyebrow at her, trying to get a read on the question. It’s strange because all he’s feeling from her is remorse. “Alright. Why?”

She shrugs her shoulders, tucking her fingers into her front pockets. “I was in a similar position a few years back. Did you hear about Garret Jacob Hobbs?”

Will shakes his head, and she glances away from him. “I shot him. He was killing and eating girls. He died in his kitchen. Everyone kept congratulating me, and I wanted to slap every single one of them.”

Relief washes over him as he smiles softly. “I feel no better than him.”

She nods her head at that, touching the corner of his desk. “Yeah, I get that. You are, though. I know it doesn’t feel that way, but you are. People who haven’t had to do what we’ve done don’t get how it makes you feel. I… I was a mess after. It makes you rethink everything you’ve ever known about yourself.”

Will swallows thickly, adjusting his glasses on his nose. “I have an appointment with Dr. Bloom in a few minutes,” he admits softly. 

“She can help,” Bev admits with a shrug. “I had Dr. Lecter, and he was excellent. I guess he’s out of the question for you, right?”

“Completely out of the question,” Will chuckles. “I still talk to him, though. I… I used to see Dr. Bloom a few years ago when she first opened her private practice. She did not help me, so this isn’t gonna go well.”

Bev bites her lip, leaning in as if to tell him a secret. “They want to hear that you regret it. That you wouldn’t do it again unless you had to. They want to hear that you’re sleeping well and are perfectly functioning, because you know in your gut that you did what you had to do.”

Will stammers at that, his mouth falling open. “You don’t regret it?”

“Fuck no,” Bev replies. “He had just murdered his wife and had his daughter in his arms to cut her throat. I reacted. I don’t regret a fucking thing. Do you really have to wonder what McAdory would have done to you if you hadn’t? It’s better not to think about it.” She bites her lip, hesitating about something. “I was worried about you after what happened at the scene two days ago. Are you okay, Will?”

He blushes, nudging his glasses up his nose to hide his eyes a bit. “I got into her head instead of the killer’s. I’ve never done that before.”

Bev touches his shoulder gently, and he looks up at her with a little frown on his face. “You scared me. I know that how you do things is… different. I didn’t realize how traumatizing it is for you, though. If you ever need someone… I know you have Hannibal, but… at work I mean. I’m here.”

Will swallows thickly, nodding his head once as he glances back down to his desk. “I appreciate that.”

She nods awkwardly, taking her hand from Will’s shoulder. “I guess you’d better head to your appointment with Dr. Bloom.”

“I don’t know where her office is,” Will replies with a little smile. “Do you mind showing me?”

“Sure,” Bev smiles, gesturing with her hand to get him to follow her. 

He’s glad he asked, because her office is in a different wing of the building and he’d never have found it on time. “Listen,” Bev says somewhat hesitantly. “After work, Brian, Jimmy, and I are going down the street for a beer. You know Finnegan’s?” Will nods, and she smiles. “Why don’t you join us? We’ll be there around five.”

Will debates that, shifting his feet awkwardly. He doesn’t have anything else to do, really. It’s not something he’d usually agree to, but he finds himself nodding anyway. “Sure. Yeah, thanks.”

Even Bev looks surprised that he agrees so easily, and her smile is wide as she slaps his shoulder. “See you, Will.”

He watches her walk away while sitting awkwardly in Dr. Bloom’s waiting area. His stomach is in knots when Dr. Bloom opens her door. “Will,” she says warmly. “Please, come in.”

Her office is all beige and white with soft pastel colors. It’s exactly like most of his previous psychiatrist’s offices, aside from Hannibal’s. He despises the forced tranquility of it. As if the colors will soothe the demons out of you if you sit around them long enough.

He sits in one of her cream-colored leather chairs with a sigh while Dr. Bloom opts to sit at her desk. “How are you, Will?” she asks.

“Fine,” he replies immediately. “As fine as I can be.”

He can feel some things from her that he’d really rather not be feeling. Muted physical attraction, concern, and… a flavor of jealousy that he genuinely doesn’t understand. “How did you sleep last night?”

“I had… a nightmare,” Will admits softly. “But I have night terrors on occasion. It’s not out of the norm for me.”

“What was this nightmare about?” she asks.

“I don’t remember it at all,” Will says softly. “I don’t even remember the gist of it.”

Her mouth purses a bit at that. “How do you know you had one?”

“Hannibal told me,” Will replies, and ah, there’s where the jealousy comes in. 

“Oh,” she says awkwardly. She takes a few seconds to gather herself back up, and Will contains the sigh he wants to breathe out. “You were a police officer right out of high school,” she says eventually. “You were let go because they assumed you were not emotionally capable of using deadly force when needed. You did not hesitate this time.”

“This man would not have hesitated with me,” Will replies immediately. “The last one was a father who was trying to pay for his chemo for his sick daughter. He wasn’t a violent man, or a particularly dangerous one, either. This man… he would have killed me. I have no doubt about that.” The lie comes from his lips so easily that he’s momentarily stunned by it. 

“That non-violent man stabbed you, Will,” she retorts while adjusting her skirt against her legs. 

“Yeah,” Will admits with a shrug. “I hesitated that time, and I had three surgeries to fix my err in judgement. This guy wouldn’t have left me needing a surgery, Dr. Bloom. He would have torn me to pieces. I didn’t make the same mistake again.”

“Would you do the same thing again?” she wonders, and Will almost flinches at how forward she can be. She doesn’t warm up or ease in, she just dives into the deep end. Will wonders for a moment just how many of her patients leave her office feeling like they’ve been dissected.

"No," Will says immediately. “I would insist that I get backup to do the interviews. If I had someone with me, none of this would have happened.” That much he’s certain is true.

“So, you regret the actions that led to the shooting, but not the shooting itself?” she asks, and there’s a hint of concern in her tone that Will feels the need to amend.

“There are a great many things I would have done differently,” Will says meaningfully. “I wouldn’t have followed him into the kitchen where there was no way out. I would have asked for backup to come with me. I wouldn’t have let him get close enough that four shots were necessary to prevent him from… hurting me. I can’t take any of it back, Dr. Bloom. I killed him. I have to live with that, now.”

“There was an incident the morning before,” she begins, and Will shakes his head, holding his hand up.

“That’s not why I’m here,” he says rudely. “We discuss the shooting, and nothing else.”

“An argument can be made that what happened the morning before made you unfit for field work, Will,” she says calmly, but he can feel her hackles rising. “You were catatonic. They had to call in… someone to get you up and moving again. That’s not a small incident.”

“It had nothing to do with what happened,” Will says emphatically. “If anything, getting inside the victim’s head made me realize that he coveted Grace. He’d have had to have known her. It’s why I thought to go to the neighborhood in the first place. I wanted to ask about suspicious cars or men, and instead I found him. I didn’t expect that.”

“I am not saying that you did,” she says with a grimace. “I’m only saying that you were in a fragile state that made you unable to make rational decisions. You followed him into his kitchen. Why?”

Will shrugs. “I went into almost every neighbor’s kitchen. It’s where people feel the most comfortable, usually.”

The corners of her mouth tip downward, and she glances away. “Have you been eating?”

“Yes,” Will replies. “Hannibal keeps cooking for me. He makes sure I eat.”

“If he’s not there?” she asks, and there’s that little sliver of jealousy again.

“I eat, Dr. Bloom,” Will sighs. “I sleep, I eat, I am still breathing. Of course, I’m upset. I had no choice in what I did, though. It’s a small consolation, but it’s all I have.”

She debates that for a minute, twirling a curl of her hair in her fingers. “I’d like to see you again before I clear you. A week from today, so we can evaluate your situation.”

“A week?” Will asks miserably. “I think Jack was hoping to get me cleared today.”

“I think Jack has no say in my clearing you,” she throws back. “A week from today. No field work or case work until then. I’ll let Jack know.”

He stands up, shaking his head. “Fine. Next week. Ten?”

She nods. “See you then, Will. If you need me beforehand,” she begins, but he waves her off with his hand.

“I have Hannibal, thanks,” he retorts. “See you next week, Dr. Bloom.”

He doesn’t wait for her to reply, he just leaves her office.

He heads to the breakroom to have his toast and strawberry preserves that Hannibal gave him, and maybe have a much-needed coffee. He grades papers and adjusts his syllabus, tweaking his PowerPoints a bit.

His 2pm lecture is much the same as his morning one, and he finds he’s irritable by the time four rolls around. He calls Hannibal as he grades more papers at his desk, and his gorgeous man answers. “Hello beloved,” he says warmly, and Will smiles his first genuine smile all day.

“Today sucked,” he says immediately, and Hannibal chuckles. 

“I’m sure it did,” he replies. “What happened?”

“Am I catching you at a bad time?”

“Not at all,” Hannibal assures him. “I am grocery shopping. Fortunately for us both, I can multi-task.”

Will grins at that, settling back in his seat. “I was forced to speak with Dr. Bloom before I can return to field work. She’s taken me off until our appointment next week.”

“Perhaps that’s for the best?” Hannibal asks hesitantly. “Will, you went through something… not everyone has the misfortune of experiencing. A little time might be a good thing.”

“I know,” Will sighs, scrubbing a hand across his face. “I just… don’t care for her. She’s jealous of my relationship with you. She is sexually attracted to me. She thinks I’m… I don’t know, a creep. I can read all of it from her to the point of distraction. It makes therapy difficult when I’m juggling her shit on top of my own.”

“Jealous of my relationship with you because she’s attracted to you?” Hannibal wonders, and Will sighs.

“No,” he chuckles. “She’d never date me, Hannibal. It’s because of you.”

“What an eventful day you’ve had,” Hannibal says drolly, and Will laughs.

“My students… clapped. It was inappropriate. There were reporters here this morning, and I had to sneak in the building like a bandit to avoid them. All I want is you, right now.”

“I was planning to go to the gym after this,” Hannibal says absently. “I can meet you at your house instead if you’d like. I’m sure we could find a creative way to get some exercise.”

Heat pulses through Will at the very thought. “I, uh…” he stammers while a blush creeps up his neck. “Fuck, that sounds like a great idea. I’ve already made plans tonight with Bev, Jimmy, and Brian. We’re going for drinks in an hour.”

“That’s… good,” Hannibal says, and he doesn’t particularly sound like he thinks it’s good. 

“Would you like to meet us at Finnigan’s?” he asks.

“I think I’ll go to the gym, beloved,” Hannibal replies. “Please eat something if you’re to be drinking. Preferably something that hasn’t been fried.”

“I’ve been thinking about a big, greasy, burger,” Will chuckles. “Does that pass muster?”

“Not even a bit,” Hannibal says dryly. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, then. If you need me at all, please call me.”

“I will,” he says softly. “Thank you, by the way. You’ve been… incredible.”

“Anything, Will. I think there’s not a thing I wouldn’t do for you.”

Will’s heart thumps a little harder at that, and he smiles. “Have a good night, darlin’.”

“Good night, beloved.”

The phone call ends, and Will debates whether or not it’s rude to cancel with Bev in favor of some sexercise with Hannibal.

It probably is.

By the time he’s finished grading papers and gets to the restaurant, it’s just after five, and Bev is waving him over to the bar. “You made it!” she chirps.

“Jimmy didn’t think you’d actually come,” Brian says with a laugh. “So, guess who’s buying all my drinks tonight.”

Brian claps Jimmy on the shoulder, and Jimmy sighs. “Sorry, Will.”

Will shrugs as he settles at the bar to Bev’s right. “I debated not coming, so… you were almost right.”

“You did good,” Brian says hesitantly while Bev glares at him and shakes her head. “I know I’m not supposed to say shit about it, but… he’s not killing anyone else because of you.”

Will orders a beer and when it’s set down, the other three lift their glasses embarrassingly. “To Will,” Jimmy says cheerfully while Will blushes hotly.

They all take a sip of their beers, and Will sighs awkwardly. “So, you and Dr. Lecter,” Jimmy says with a waggle of his eyebrows, and Brian slaps his arm. “What?”

“Christ, Jimmy,” Brian groans, shaking his head while sipping his beer.

“It’s fine,” Will interjects before they can begin bickering. “Yeah, he’s… my partner.”

“He’s gorgeous,” Jimmy sighs, “and so… classy. Is he like that all the time? Does he ever do something crazy like wear a tee shirt?”

Will laughs at that, and Beverly snorts into her beer. “I second that question,” she giggles.

“He wears tee shirts,” Will chuckles, sipping his beer while blushing furiously. 

“That must be something,” Jimmy replies while Brian rolls his eyes.

“I bet he’s muscley under all those suits,” Bev says dreamily. “This is not appropriate.”

“Not at all,” Brian agrees.

“A valid question, though,” Jimmy says with an interested quirk of his eyebrow. “Is he?”

“Yes,” Will laughs. “Anything else you want to know about Hannibal?”

They all look contrite for maybe five seconds before Jimmy opens his mouth to ask something, and Bev slaps him. “Do not ask that.”

Brian groans, “Please. Don’t.”

The conversation, thankfully, steers away from Hannibal and his muscled body, and Will finds he’s actually having a nice time. Will has maybe six beers and a giant greasy burger, and by the time he’s heading home… he’s just drunk enough that he wants to make a detour.

It’s just after eight, so there’s a chance that his muscled partner is still at the gym, but he still stops at his house anyway.

To his absolute delight, not only is Hannibal home, but he answers the door wet and freshly showered. Will’s mouth waters when he sees him, and the martyred expression on Hannibal’s face is amusing enough that Will laughs while he pounces on him.

Hannibal wraps his arms around him eagerly as he tugs him into the house, and Will devours his sweet mouth immediately while Hannibal chuckles against his lips. “How much did you have to drink?” Hannibal wonders while Will nips down the column of his throat. 

“Dunno,” he says between greedy sucks of skin. “Six beers? Something like that.”

He’s wearing a tee shirt, Will realizes, and the sight makes Will growl while tugging it up and off of his gorgeous body. “You smell like fried food and cheap liquor,” Hannibal sighs while Will nibbles down his chest, tugging a nipple between his teeth. 

“And you smell delicious,” Will mouths against his stomach while untying Hannibal’s pajama’s. He yanks them down hard enough that the material tears, and Hannibal’s half-hard cock is now enticingly close to Will’s face as he settles out on his knees in the foyer of Hannibal’s home.

He wastes no time sucking him into his mouth, and Hannibal groans while Will sinks down over him, tasting clean skin and smelling soap while his cock fills in Will’s mouth.

“Were you thinking of me, beloved?” Hannibal asks breathlessly while Will sucks his cock like he’s been dying for it. 

Will pulls away, pressing a kiss to the head and looking up at him with dark eyes. “Always,” he says while stroking his cock with his hand. “And everyone else was, too. Fucking everyone wants you. Except maybe Brian.”

Hannibal hisses when Will sucks him back down, “What?”

Will pulls away to come back up to his feet, wobbling dangerously while Hannibal steadies him. Will ditches his own clothes while he elaborates. “Tonight,” he says while shucking his shirt. “Bev, Jimmy, all of them. Just… ‘does he wear tee shirts? Is he as gorgeous naked as he is in clothes?’,” Will mimics irritably while fumbling with his pants. “Even fucking Alana in therapy, jealous that I get to have you and she doesn’t. You are mine,” Will says once he’s naked, grabbing Hannibal’s waist and tugging them tight together. “Mine.”

Hannibal chuckles as Will directs their naked bodies to the couch in the living room, laying Hannibal out like a feast on the soft cushions. “They wanted to know if I wear tee shirts?” Hannibal asks in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Will says while licking down Hannibal’s stomach, laving gently at his belly button. “The only one who didn’t look like he wanted to ask about your cock was Brian. Maybe he’s straight.”

“Tell me you didn’t talk about my cock, Will,” Hannibal says seriously, and Will glares up at him while stroking said cock.

“Of course, I didn’t,” Will replies tartly. “This,” he says while licking a broad stripe against the head of his cock. “This is mine. No one gets to know about it. No one gets to see it. You are mine.”

“Yours,” Hannibal agrees with a moan while Will sinks his mouth over him. He sucks him roughly, digging his fingernails into Hannibal’s thighs while deepthroating him as best as he can. Hannibal looks wrecked under him, and Will wants more than this. 

“You don’t have lube down here, do you?” Will asks hopefully, jerking his cock in his hand.

“That table over there,” Hannibal says, pointing weakly while arching his back sinfully. 

Will is about to have a stroke with the jealousy he feels in that moment. Why the fuck would Hannibal keep lube down here? When he opens the drawer, he sees that it’s a new tube and the feeling settles a bit. “Tell me you put this here for me,” Will demands while crawling between his long legs. “Tell me this hasn’t always been here.”

“It’s for us, Will,” he replies, spreading his legs a bit to make room for Will. “For you.”

“Good,” Will says lowly. He settles the lube to the side of their hips. “You’re going to come twice, Dr. Lecter,” he promises him while Hannibal moans desperately. “Once down my throat, and once because I’m fucking you. You won’t disappoint me, will you?”

“No,” he groans while Will wraps his lips around him, sucking him to the back of his throat. Will works him desperately with his lips and tongue, dragging noises from Hannibal that make his cock pulse against the couch cushions. He fumbles for the lube, smearing some on his fingers while sucking Hannibal’s cock roughly before easing two fingers inside of him, scissoring him open just a bit too quickly.

Hannibal doesn’t seem to mind all that much. His spine arches deliciously, his head tipped back, exposing the strong column of his throat. His soft mouth is parted, and his dark hair is mussed from sliding his long fingers through it. He’s gorgeous, and he’s Will’s. Only Will’s. No one else gets to see him like this, never again.

He eases his fingers deeper, stroking ruthlessly against Hannibal’s prostate, and those long legs fold up, resting enticingly against Will’s shoulders while Will takes him to the back of his throat. He eases another finger inside, stretching and teasing while rubbing at Hannibal’s perineum with his thumb. Hannibal’s thighs quiver against his shoulders, and Will swallows around him. He knows he’s being aggressively relentless, his mouth and his tongue working him to the point that Hannibal is shaking as he falls apart. His cock jerks against Will’s tongue while a desperate, harsh moan bellows out from Hannibal’s sweet mouth.

Will swallows him down eagerly, licking and lapping at his jerking cock like he’s been starving for it, and Hannibal sounds like he’s coming apart at the seams. Will wastes no time when he pulls away, slicking his own cock quickly and easing his way inside of that tight heat. Hannibal accepts him by wrapping those lovely legs around his waist and tugging him closer as Will sinks in.

Will lets out a relieved groan once he’s buried as deep as he can go and wastes no time when he starts thrusting inside of the gorgeous man under him. Hannibal’s face is flushed, a fine sheen of sweat coating his muscled torso while his cock twitches against his abdomen and leaks there enticingly. Will aims for his prostate, and Hannibal hisses as each thrust lands squarely where it’ll torture him the most. 

He runs his fingers through the come that’s leaking against Hannibal’s abdomen, sucking the fingers into his mouth and licking them clean while Hannibal stares up at him, stunned. “You’re mine,” he repeats breathlessly. 

“Yours,” Hannibal agrees with a broken sob, and Will reaches for his cock again, stroking him back to full arousal.

He leans over his body while grinding deeply, rolling the head of his cock ceaselessly against Hannibal’s prostate while licking into his mouth. Hannibal can’t seem to kiss him back properly, his damp gasps are ghosting across Will’s face while he grasps Will’s ass in his large hands, urging him harder and deeper.

“Hannibal,” Will sighs, tipping his face back to take in Hannibal’s rapturous face. Hannibal’s hands leave his ass, trailing up his spine and around his shoulders. He takes Will’s face in his palms gently, reverently, sliding his thumbs down the rough stubble of his cheeks. 

Will feels something… heavy from him. Something that feels a lot like something that’s too early to call by name, and it overwhelms him. He presses his face to Hannibal’s neck to hide the raw emotion he’s feeling, hoping to God that he didn’t do it a moment too late.

Will jerks him in time with his deep thrusts, his own pleasure mounting low in his gut. The intensity of it rolls through his abdomen and up his spine, and his throat aches from the constant, low, moans escaping his throat. “Come with me,” he pleads urgently, snapping his hips with abandon while Hannibal mewls under him.

He comes without much warning, pumping himself inside while Hannibal arches, his own cock jerking in Will’s hand as he comes across his stomach and chest. Will thrusts slow to a lazy pace while he slumps against Hannibal, both of them panting and gasping while coming back down to earth.

Hannibal chuckles, weaving his fingers through Will’s damp hair. “Did you come here because you were jealous?”

The blush that happens instantly is somewhat embarrassing. “That was a part of it, yeah,” Will says softly. “I was also just… craving you.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he replies, pressing a kiss to Will’s temple. 

Will smiles against his neck, holding him a little tighter when he slips out of Hannibal’s body. “This was… exactly what I needed. A good half hour where I don’t have to think about the fact that I’m a murderer, now.”

Hannibal runs his fingers down Will’s spine, making him shiver from the gentle touch. “It gets easier,” Hannibal says eventually. “One day, you’ll wake up and not think about it at all. It just takes time.”

Will doubts that. He still thinks of the coppery smell of all that blood. The way the red of it looked black as it soaked into the carpet. The way his pupils dilated as he exhaled his last breath. It wasn’t guilt he was thinking of. It was… a disturbing sense of loss that it was over.

“Did you ever…” Will begins but hesitates. The question could be taken lightly if Will worded it correctly. It could also be taken exactly how Will means it, which would alarm Hannibal, and with good reason. “Did you ever… want to do it again?”

He hears Hannibal’s rough swallow, but he doesn’t see his facial expression because his face is pressed to Hannibal’s heart. “Do what again, Will? Kill the man who killed Mischa? Or kill again in general?”

“In general,” Will replies softly, and Hannibal sighs. 

“There is a… quiet sense of power to it, isn’t there? Of course, I thought about it. While I was in the orphanage, there were so many boys that were unnecessarily cruel to me. I considered killing them. I considered what I would do to them when they were hurting me. I didn’t, though. Sometimes I regret that.”

“I kind of want to kill them for hurting you,” Will replies, and he means it entirely. “Kids can be fucking awful. I got bullied a lot, too. I was a tiny kid with an empathy disorder. You can’t imagine how much I got beat up.”

“I want to tell you that the desire to… smite those that deserve it goes away, but… it doesn’t,” Hannibal says hesitantly. “The initial reaction that I feel when someone is untoward with me… it’s not forgiveness or even compassion. It’s rage.”

“I’ve never even seen you angry, I don’t think,” Will realizes while running his fingers through his chest hair. “Except for that one minute where you thought I told Molly I was leaving her for you. You looked mad, then.”

“I felt betrayed,” Hannibal tells him. “Anger was a very distant emotion then. I wonder what you’d need to do for me to be truly angry with you. I sometimes doubt there’s anything at all.”

“Oh, I’ll give you a reason someday,” Will laughs. “I can be moody and mean, sometimes. It’s not… it isn’t always on purpose. Sometimes I’ve spent the day with irritable people, and I pick it up like a sponge. I hope I never snap at you, but-”

“You’ve been angry at me a few times, now,” Hannibal interjects with a laugh. “When I commandeered your housework and when you thought I was saying you were sexually repressed. Your anger makes you even more alluring. It’s magnificent.”

“I hope you always feel that way,” Will chuckles, then presses a kiss to Hannibal’s chest. “I’ve got to get home to the dogs. I didn’t know I was going to be out this long today. I know we had plans for tomorrow, but I also don’t mind if you want to cancel. I know I’ve… monopolized your time all week.”

Hannibal tips his chin up with his fingers, and Will’s eyes meet his hesitantly. “You’ve needed me, Will. I’ll be there for you whenever you do. I don’t want to cancel for tomorrow night. I’ve already gone grocery shopping for it, and I look forward to spending an evening with you.”

Will leans forward and kisses him, earning himself a smile from his partner in return. “So what’s on the menu for tomorrow?”

“You didn’t get to enjoy the lamb I made,” he replies while twirling one of Will’s curls around his long finger. “I got a quarter rack of lamb. You can take some leftovers to work on Friday.”

“You’re going to make me chubby, just so you know,” Will laughs. “I’ve never eaten like this in my life.”

“Which is why taking up an exercise would be good for you. Eating healthier and finding time for some exercise would help you sleep. It would be good for you, all around.”

“I used to run,” Will says absently. “My shoulder kills me with the impact, now. Maybe jogging would be better?”

“Low impact is always better,” Hannibal tells him. “I swim at HealthTrax. They have an Olympic sized swimming pool that I use to swim laps for my cardio. Everything else I do is just weights, really.”

“When you go to the gym, you’re… swimming?” Will says dumbly. He wants to see it. Hannibal’s lithe body cutting through the water. His muscles rolling and flexing while… wet. Good lord.

“I try to go three times a week,” he says with a nod. “Maybe you should join me.”

“I’m not a very good swimmer,” Will says with a blush. “Besides, you should have some aspects of your life that I don’t… overrun.”

“You say that as though I don’t appreciate your company,” Hannibal replies, shifting his weight a bit to settle them more comfortably. “But I understand.”

Will sits up, grimacing while stretching his shoulder that was pressed into the side of the couch. He stands up awkwardly, shielding his nakedness a bit while finding all of his clothes on the floor. “Sorry I mauled you the moment I walked in,” Will says while blushing.

“I found it very pleasurable,” Hannibal chuckles. Will glances over to him, sliding his eyes over the debauched expanse of his body. His hair is mussed, he’s got come all over him and inside of him, and his collarbone is bruised from Will’s mouth. He’s gorgeous, and Will has some difficulty convincing himself to leave. “I should possibly have another shower, though.”

Will chuckles while pulling on his pants, arching an eyebrow as he turns to Hannibal again. “Maybe condoms would be good sometimes just for cleanup.”

“No,” Hannibal replies immediately. “Just… no.”

Hannibal walks Will to the door naked as the day he was born to kiss him and see him out. It distracts Will enough that he barely acknowledges the long ride home.


	18. Chapter 18

The next day goes by well enough. His morning lecture sparks debate among the students, which is what he wanted to accomplish with his lectures in the first place. They seem to be understanding his way of teaching now, and they have opinions and ideas that make Will feel like he’s doing good.

When he goes to lunch, Bev and Jimmy are eating together at the table, and Will joins them. “It was nice you joined us last night,” Bev says while sipping her coffee. 

“Yeah,” Jimmy agrees, stirring his spoon through his soup. “Sorry we were inappropriate. Two beers and I become someone else.”

Will shakes his head, taking a bite of his sandwich. “It’s fine,” he assures them. “I get it.”

“What are your plans for the weekend?” Bev asks, and Will shrugs. 

“Probably going to have Hannibal over my house,” he replies. “Nothing crazy.”

Jimmy and Bev share a look before Jimmy turns back to Will. “So, this thing with him is kind of new, right?”

“Yeah,” Will says slowly, glancing between them. “Why?”

“He’s a social butterfly,” Bev says as if it explains everything. “He likes to go out. Operas, charities, things like that. Have you gone to anything with him, yet?”

“I went to an art exhibit,” Will admits while glancing between them. “It was just a little gathering, though. Why?”

“Do you even own a tux?” Jimmy asks and Bev shrugs her shoulders as if she was planning to ask the same question.

Will blushes and shakes his head. “No. If he invited me, I’d just… I don’t know, rent one.”

Jimmy grimaces. “Oh, dear heart. You can’t rent a tux for something like that. You should have one made. It’s… expensive, but then you’d have it for next time. He’d appreciate that, I think. Opening night for Faust is in three and a half weeks. You’d have a tux made by then. I bet you money he’s going to ask you to join him.”

“I don’t even know where to go for something like that,” Will replies, grimacing while tossing his sandwich aside. 

Bev smiles. “I know a guy, actually. I’ll call him, maybe we can go tomorrow night after work. Assuming no one’s been murdered.”

The sigh that escapes Will’s mouth is martyred. “Fine. Sure.”

“Don’t look so thrilled,” Bev laughs. “I know it’s probably extreme, but he’s going to appreciate the effort.”

Will nods. “I want to. He’s done a lot for me since I bought my house. I wanted to do something for him, but something… more personal than buying myself a tux.”

“Having you look gorgeous on his arm is plenty personal,” Bev retorts.

“And it shows that you’re interested in his life,” Jimmy shrugs. “Doing something like this is… premediated.”

“Christ,” Will laughs. “Okay. I guess I’m having a tux made. What’s this going to cost me?”

Bev shrugs. “Kevin is good. He’ll work with you in a price range. My guess would be a thousand or so.”

Will nods, grimacing a bit. He has some money set aside still from all the home remodeling that he didn’t need to do. He could use that, he guesses. “Okay.”

The rest of the day passes without much incident aside from Bev finding him to tell him that Kevin can meet with them at five the next day to take Will’s measurements and pick fabrics. He’s scowling by the time he gets to his car, wondering what the hell he’s doing. He’s not this guy. He’s not a man that picks fabrics for tuxes, yet here he is, doing just that. 

The only thing that motivates him is that he wants to look good. He knows Hannibal will likely ask him to go with him to the opening night. He wants to look good with him. He wants the photos that are taken of them to make a bit of sense to the outside world. 

He wonders about that, too. He doesn’t know when he started caring what other people think. 

He gets to his house just after five-thirty, and his smile is genuine when he finds Hannibal already there. He’s standing on his porch while his dogs run around the yard, dressed deliciously casual in a red sweater and black slacks. 

Will steps out of his car, petting his dogs on the way up to him. “Hello gorgeous,” he says with a smile.

Hannibal grins as he pulls him into his arms, pressing a kiss to his mouth softly. “Beloved,” he sighs.

“I didn’t think you’d be here already,” Will grins, tugging him against his body in a hug. 

“My last appointment ended at three,” Hannibal replies. “I wanted to get here for the delivery.”

Will pulls away with a grimace, looking up at Hannibal in suspicion. “The delivery? What are you talking about?”

Hannibal bites his bottom lip while Will feels his hackles rising. “It was free, I didn’t pay a dime for it. Aside from delivery, of course.”

“What did you do?” Will asks indignantly. He steps away from Hannibal and into his house, where there is now an older upright piano on the far wall. He stares at it with his mouth open, turning to Hannibal while trying to decide just how angry he is right now.

Hannibal has the decency at least to look a bit apologetic, but he’s still grinning. A little quirk to the corners of his mouth tells Will that he’s not sorry in the least. “It needs to be tuned,” Hannibal says while Will staves off an aneurysm. “The strings are newer, so they won’t need replacing. You should wait a few weeks before tuning it, though. Allow the instrument time to acclimate in the house.”

“I very specifically asked you not to do this,” Will says hotly, his face flaming as he turns to Hannibal. 

“You said not to buy you one,” Hannibal argues with an arrogant jut of his jaw. “It was free in the want ads. I merely paid for its delivery.”

Will stares at him like he’s grown two heads. He didn’t seem to understand at all, and it pisses Will off more than anything else. “When you do things like this,” he begins slowly, enunciating each word as clearly as he can. “It makes me feel like I need to do more. I can’t reciprocate something like this.”

“I do not expect you to,” Hannibal replies just as slowly, taking care to enunciate each word in an almost mocking tone. 

Will shakes his head, narrowing his eyes. “It makes me feel small, Hannibal. It makes me feel like I’m not doing enough. Can’t you even kind of understand that?”

“I don’t,” Hannibal says stubbornly. “I enjoy seeing you happy, Will. It pleases me to make you happy. Don’t you want to please me?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Will laughs, the tension breaking between them. “It makes you happy to spend obscene money on me, so I should allow it? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Three hundred dollars for delivery is hardly obscene,” Hannibal says with a scowl. “I see now that I may have overstepped again, however.”

Will lets out a long sigh, and any tension he’s still feeling dissipates with it. “Thank you. I should have said that, first. I’m… I don’t even know what to say.”

“Anything other than telling me to fuck off would have been welcomed, really,” Hannibal replies dryly. 

Will flinches at that, stepping into his space to wrap his arms around his tense man. “I didn’t mean it like that,” Will says softly. “I’m sorry.”

Hannibal wraps his arms around him, pressing a kiss to his temple. “When I tell you that it’s not a tally board, I’m being very serious. I’m quite aware of our… financial disparity. It doesn’t bother me in the least. I won’t do anything like this again. I promise you.”

“Just talk to me about it first,” Will pleads. “Some warning would have been nice.”

“Then it wouldn’t have been a surprise,” Hannibal says stubbornly, pulling away from Will to head to the kitchen. “Do you like it, though?”

Will really looks at it, then. It’s in beautiful shape, and the dark wood has been taken care of perfectly. He touches one of the keys, and it’s definitely out of tune, but the sound is still good. “I love it, Hannibal,” he admits seriously. His throat is closing with grateful tears, and he turns his face to hide the sheen of them. “Thank you.”

He follows Hannibal into the kitchen and watches him egg wash a pie. “I’ve never owned a real piano,” he remarks absently.

“You can’t say that anymore,” Hannibal muses. “I hope you like kidney pie.”

“Never had it,” Will says with a tiny grimace. “Never had kidneys in any form.”

He sets it in Will’s oven, glancing at the clock to note the time. “People tend to avoid the more unsavory cuts of meat,” Hannibal says while washing up the few dishes in Will’s sink. “The butcher that I go to only sources from free range farms. The taste is quite singular.”

“What animal is it from?” Will asks hesitantly.

“Sheep,” he replies, turning to Will with a little smirk on his face. “Does it make it better or worse to know it?”

Will falters at that, debating it and then shrugging. “I think kidneys from anywhere will make me… wary.”

“I think once you try it, you’ll find it’s not as offensive as you imagine it to be,” he replies with a gentle shrug. “If you don’t like it, I won’t make it again.”

“You must have grown up eating stuff like that, right?” Will realizes. “You had sheep, so none of it went to waste, I imagine.”

“Nothing went to waste,” Hannibal agrees. “Even the bones were boiled down to make broths. The entire animal was utilized in some way. The more unsavory cuts of meat were ground and made into sausages with the intestines. My mother was very thorough about honoring the entire animal.”

“Honoring?” Will asks with a raised eyebrow.

“She loved them,” he says softly. “It wasn’t easy for her to decide which would go to slaughter. She did what she could to ensure that they weren’t wasted.”

Will glances at Winston, trying to rationalize it. He loves Winston and cannot imagine what it would be like to know he was food. “Do I have time for a quick shower?” he asks, effectively changing the subject.

Hannibal nods while chopping purple potatoes. “You do, but maybe you’d like to wait until after dinner? I’ll join you.”

“Well don’t twist my arm or anything,” Will laughs. “That sounds perfect.”

“Have you been sleeping, Will?” Hannibal asks. He knows he’s asking because the purple bruises under Will’s eyes are more prominent now than they’ve ever been. 

“Uh,” Will stalls, scratching idly at his stubble. “Not really, no. I mean, I go to bed. I try, but… I wake up sweaty and in a panic. I can’t seem to get back to sleep.”

“What is it that’s still bothering you?” Hannibal wonders. “Is it the act, or is it that you’ve thought about what it would be like to do it again?”

Will’s face flames with the question, and he turns away awkwardly to look out towards his living room. “Both, I guess.”

“Do you remember your dreams?” Hannibal asks, and Will shrugs.

“Kind of,” he admits with a sigh. “I just remember… lathering my hands in blood. My hands, my wrists… they’re covered and dripping in blood. My stag is there, and he’s right beside me, now. Every step he takes and every breath he draws is in perfect sync with my own. He feels like me, now. He feels like he approves of my bloody hands.”

“As I’ve said, coming to terms with who you are can be daunting,” he reminds Will. “Eventually you’ll find peace with yourself. You must sleep, though. I may write you a prescription to aid you.”

“I don’t want drugs,” Will replies immediately. “I don’t, Hannibal. Christ, why are you with me? Doesn’t it concern you that I… that I’m…” he can’t even bring himself to finish the statement, he’s so mortified.

Hannibal sets down the knife he’s using to dice potatoes. His face is perfectly devoid of emotion, his mask securely set in place. “Would you kill me? Can you imagine yourself killing a child? An innocent?”

Will’s mouth drops open in horror while he shakes his head. “Of course, not! Why the hell would you ask me that?”

“To show you that you aren’t a monster, Will,” Hannibal says sincerely. “You were the one that told me that everyone is capable of love, and everyone is capable of cruelty. In your lecture, you surmised to your students that everyone thinks about killing now and again. How are you any different? Why are you held to a higher standard than you allow for others?”

“Because I’ve killed, Hannibal,” Will says harshly. 

“And so have I,” Hannibal reminds him while picking up the blade to resume slicing. “The man who sold me the lamb, not the butcher, but the man working the register. He was extraordinarily rude to me. So rude, in fact, that I considered cutting into him, using his own tools to cut the ribs from his breathing body. I did no such thing, of course. Am I a monster for thinking of it?”

Will bites his lip, averting his eyes. “What did he say to you?”

“He mumbled that I was a cocksucker under his breath as I walked away,” Hannibal says offendedly. “For what reason, I have no idea. He was just… abominable.”

Will debates that for a minute, his own anger mounting over the incident, too. “I don’t know,” he begins. “I feel like thinking about it and actually doing it are two different things.”

“Precisely my point,” Hannibal replies easily. 

Will isn’t sure he feels better, per say. The discussion merely points out the fact that Will did act on his impulse, and he doesn’t know where that puts him. If he’s ever in a similar situation, he wants to say he’d call for backup, arrest them, or anything besides kill them. He doesn’t know that, though. He doesn’t feel like he knows himself, and that’s the most upsetting thing about it. 

He lets the matter drop while watching Hannibal’s intricate dance in his tiny kitchen. He cooks with such ease and grace that Will could watch him cook every time he does so. 

“Did you have a nice time with your friends from work?” Hannibal asks eventually. 

Will startles at the question, glancing up at him in surprise. “Oh, yeah. It was… alright. I don’t think I’ve ever gone for drinks with coworkers. Aside from Henri, I mean.”

“You should have a housewarming party,” Hannibal says with a grin. “Invite them here one night. I don’t mind cooking. I’d also like to meet them.”

“Well, you met Bev,” Will says with a shrug. “Aside from her, it’s just Brian and Jimmy.”

“I recall Mr. Price,” Hannibal says with a smirk. “He’s quite a character.”

Will considers that, shrugging eventually. “I’ll ask if they want to come by on Saturday night, if that works for you?”

“I had no plans, beloved,” he replies while washing his hands in the kitchen sink. “Are they fussy eaters?”

“I don’t really know,” Will says with a laugh. “I know that Bev was dying to try that beef stew that you made when you moved me in? I took some leftovers to work for lunch, and she was drooling all over it. I can ask if the others mind that.”

“Well that’s easy enough,” Hannibal chuckles. “If that works for them, let me know. Otherwise I’ll come by Saturday afternoon to cook and set up with you.”

Will stalls at that. “Set up?”

Hannibal stares back at him, confused by Will’s confusion. “For the party?”

Will honestly has no idea what that would entail, and he chuckles. “Like setting the table?”

Hannibal sighs, setting the potatoes in the oven. “I’ll take care of the particulars, Will.”

“Alright,” Will says hesitantly. “If the weather is good, we could walk over to the stream. I’ve wanted to show it to you since I moved in.”

“Perhaps on Sunday?” Hannibal offers. “I can stay here Saturday night, and then you could take me in the morning. I don’t mind sitting with you while you fish.”

“That would be perfect,” Will replies with a wide smile. “I’ve only made it out there once since I moved in. I haven’t had the time, really.”

Hannibal comes around the counter once everything is cooking, taking Will into his arms for a gentle embrace. “You have to find time for the things you enjoy. Don’t let me or anyone else deprive you.”

“Well Sunday I get to indulge with two things I enjoy at the same time,” he grins while leaning up to press his lips to Hannibal’s briefly. “You and my stream.”

Hannibal looks pleased by that, and he reaches out to smooth his fingers down the side of Will’s neck. Will leans in on autopilot, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth that makes his partner smile.

Hannibal presses a kiss to his temple before pulling away. “Wine?” he asks.

“I think I’ll pass on booze today,” Will laughs. “I was a little hung over this morning.”

“You don’t say,” he replies dryly while rummaging for the corkscrew that Will didn’t know he owned. “You had at least a half dozen beers and some kind of cheap liquor that smelled of apple pie.”

“What a nose you have on you,” Will laughs while accepting a bottle of sparkling water from Hannibal’s outstretched hand. “Apple pie shot. Bev’s idea. It wasn’t a good one.”

Hannibal opens his bottle of wine, sniffing the cork briefly before pouring himself a glass. “It doesn’t seem like it would be. You get along well with her, then?”

The question is asked in such a way that Will pauses while sipping his water. “She seems to get that I’m a little different from other people. She doesn’t judge or think less of me for it, she just accepts it. She could be a friend, someday. She gives me relationship advice and worships the ground you walk on, so there’s that.”

“The ground I walk on?” Hannibal asks, sputtering a bit on his first sip of wine.

“She told me that you were excellent when she shot Hobbs,” Will explains. “She appreciates you for what you did for her. You must have been much more helpful than Alana is for me.”

“Beverly told you of Hobbs?” Hannibal asks in surprise. “It was a difficult time for her. I did what I could to help her through it. Would you be opposed if I invited Jack and his wife for Saturday?”

Will flinches at that. “You want to invite my boss, everyone’s boss, to a party?” Will asks with a raised eyebrow.

Hannibal grimaces. “I didn’t think of that.”

“If you want to have a dinner party with him and his wife, I’m not opposed to that another night. Maybe just the four of us?”

“Perhaps,” Hannibal agrees with a shrug. “Maybe in a few weeks.”

Dinner is absolutely delicious and Will over-eats, to his mortification. Hannibal looks pleased, while Will is trying desperately not to unbuckle his pants. The kidney pie doesn’t taste like a kidney, although to be fair, Will wouldn’t know what a kidney tasted like, anyway.

Will helps Hannibal clean up before they head upstairs for a shower, each shucking their clothes eagerly before climbing in the steaming stall. “I can’t keep eating like this,” Will laughs while Hannibal kisses his way down his torso, nipping at his flat stomach. 

“No one forced you to take a second helping,” Hannibal muses, settling onto his knees to lick and suck at his stiffening cock. 

Will lets out a little moan as Hannibal takes him into his mouth, working him quickly enough that Will feels like his legs are going to give out. “Hannibal,” he sighs, lacing his fingers through his wet hair. Hannibal pulls away abruptly, coming to his feet in one fluid motion and Will feels… bereft. 

“Are you familiar with the concept of edging?” Hannibal asks, and Will feels like he’s going to pass out.

“Yes,” he replies hesitantly. “It’s kind of what we did that night we dragged it out for over an hour, right?”

“Yes,” Hannibal replies, soaping Will up with a bar soap and working his muscles with gentle fingers. “After our shower, I’m going to edge you, but with my mouth. How long do you think you can last, I wonder?”

The flush of arousal is like a punch to the gut, as well as the flare of jealousy. “Have you done that often?” Will finds himself asking before he can think better of it.

Hannibal pauses while soaping Will up, turning his face to look Will in the eye. “No,” he replies eventually. “Not until you, Will.”

“I’m sorry,” Will says awkwardly while taking the bar soap from Hannibal’s hand. He works it over Hannibal’s strong chest, blushing furiously. “That was really… bitter of me, I know.”

“Have you done it before?” Hannibal asks instead of agreeing. Will blushes harder, soaping up his stomach and arms while shaking his head. “Then I look forward to testing out limits together,” he drawls, and Will feels like he’s going to combust.

They finish their shower quickly, each toweling off just barely before their mouths find one another again. Will angles them to the bed, both naked and damp, easing back onto the soft mattress with a sigh as Hannibal kisses down his chest. “Get comfortable, beloved,” Hannibal says between soft laps of his tongue. “We’re to be here a while.”

Will slinks to the center of the bed while Hannibal crawls over him, sliding between his spread thighs to settle between them. Their mouths meet again, and Will moans into the kiss, arching his hips off the bed to drag his cock against Hannibal’s own. Hannibal’s fingers are laced through his curls, tipping his head to kiss him more deeply, while Will’s own hands grip the firm flesh of his hips, tugging him harder against his body.

Hannibal eases away from his mouth, suckling adoringly at his neck, then his collarbone. His fingers leave his curls to trail scorching paths down his sides, tracing the delicate lines of muscle in Will’s abdomen. His tongue follows the path of his fingers, driving Will insane with want. “Hannibal,” he pleads desperately, thrusting up gently and earning a filthy little chuckle from the other man for it.

The first swipe of his tongue against Will’s cock is almost gentle enough to be a tickle. Will watches him gently glide the flat of it along his shaft, tracing around the ridge of the head so softly that Will closes his eyes and arches into it. Hannibal pulls away, of course, because this is supposed to be slow. Lengthy.

Will’s not sure he’s going to last that long.

His lips wrap around just the head, suckling gently while the flat of his tongue slides over the tip. It feels so fucking good, yet miles away from anything that would be enough to get him off. Everything about it, from the suction to the amount of attention is just shy of being enough, and Will doesn’t think he’ll be able to keep up like this.

He stays quiet while watching him, though. Hannibal looks rapturous. His eyes glance up at Will every now and again, while his mouth suckles and kisses along his shaft. He slaps the head of Will’s cock against the flat of his tongue, swirling it gently and lazily. 

He’s savoring Will with every swipe of his tongue, tasting him almost leisurely. His eyes are so dark they’re almost fathomless, and the way he’s got his lips wrapped around Will’s cock hollows out his cheeks, highlighting the sharpness of his cheekbones enticingly. His dark hair is falling across his forehead, so Will reaches out to gently brush the soft strands away, lacing them gently through his hair.

Will has never had a blow job like this. It’s usually a perfunctory thing. The only purpose of it is to get off, thank you very much. This is decidedly different. Hannibal is enjoying giving just as much as Will is enjoying receiving, and the little loop of their combined emotions is thrilling for Will. 

Hannibal hollows out his cheeks, sinking over him slowly, sucking only the smallest bit. Will gasps when he feels the head hit the back of Hannibal’s throat, the heat and constriction of it causing a low pulse of pleasure to rocket through his gut. Will thrusts gently, and Hannibal eases back, swirling his tongue around him leisurely.

He leaves Will’s cock, suckling down the shaft, then down to his testicles. Will spreads his legs a bit, making more room for him while Hannibal pulls one ball into his mouth, rolling it on his tongue. The little noises that are escaping Will’s mouth are unavoidable at this point, it feels so fucking good.

He alternates between sucking on Will’s cock, his testicles, and his perineum unhurriedly, nuzzling against the base occasionally with his nose. It goes on for long enough that Will is sweating and desperate but determined not to ask for release. He knows Hannibal would let him. He knows it, but he doesn’t want to ask. Not when his partner is looking up at him the way that he is.

The intimacy of it is almost suffocating. After having a lifetime of awkward, impersonal, sexual encounters, everything with Hannibal is consistently on the border of too much. It’s like receiving pleasure in double; Hannibal’s and his own at the same time.

His desperate little gasps and moans must ask for mercy because Hannibal takes him to the back of his throat, swallowing around him. He hums while Will’s cock is nestled back there, and the vibration goes right to Will’s back teeth, it’s so fucking good.

The bed is moving for some reason, so Will glances down and notices that Hannibal has his hand wrapped around his own cock, and he’s jerking himself in time with his mouth around Will. The sight of it causes a white-hot throb of need to roll through his abdomen while his balls draw tight against his body. He plants his feet on either side of Hannibal, thrusting up gently, easing himself down Hannibal’s throat.

It’s barely a few snaps of his hips and he’s coming, his head thrown back while his cock pulses and jerks in Hannibal’s mouth. His partner doesn’t let him go through any of it, instead he continues sucking and swallowing, jerking himself roughly while coming against the mattress with a contented groan.

Will feels completely boneless, laying limp against the bed while gasping to regain his composure. Hannibal flops down beside him, swiping absently at the corner of his mouth with a little grin on his face, sucking his finger coyly.

“The noises you make,” Hannibal says eventually, his voice roughened and deep from blowing Will’s brains out. “They’re more lovely than any aria.”

Will laughs weakly at that, rolling to his side to tug Hannibal closer. Their kiss is languid, their mouths meeting and sipping one another softly. “I feel like I’ve lost brain cells,” Will laughs.

“A job well done for me, then,” Hannibal muses, licking his swollen bottom lip. Will leans forward to capture it, suckling it into his mouth before pressing more proper kisses to his lips.

“You deprived me of the opportunity to reciprocate,” Will says haughtily. “I feel a little mad about that.”

Hannibal grins at that, smoothing one of Will’s curls away from his forehead with soft fingers. “We’ve all the time in the world, beloved.”

Will escapes to let the dogs out one more time before bed, while Hannibal cleans up the sheets a bit. They each take turns brushing their teeth before climbing back into bed. Hannibal settles out against Will’s chest, and Will cards his fingers through his hair, pressing a kiss to his temple. There are three little words burning a hole through his chest, ones that he wants to say, but just can’t bring himself to.

He holds off. Like Hannibal said, they have all the time in the world.

His nightmare gets him out of bed at three in the morning, sweating and nauseated by it. In his dream, he and his stag are covered in blood, a pile of bodies stacked up below them. They are both proud of their kills, their chests puffed out while they drip black blood over the mountain of corpses below them.

The very air in the dream is dark, the light barely touching a thing aside from making the blood glint and shine.

Will doesn’t fucking know who he is, anymore.

He climbs from the bed carefully, quietly taking clothes for the day downstairs with him. He showers in the downstairs bath, trying his best not to disturb Hannibal’s sleep. He showers and shaves, dressing in a green sweater paired with black slacks. Something warm as the cold seems to have seeped into his bones after his nightmare.

He feeds his dogs and puts them outside for a bit, sitting with them on the porch with a blanket around his shoulders. He feels weirdly numb from the lack of sleep, his head fuzzy and disjointed enough that he wonders if he should have just tried to sleep more.

He knows he wouldn’t have been able to, though.

When he heads back inside with the dogs, the upstairs shower is running, letting Will know that Hannibal is up and getting ready for his day. He decides to make them breakfast, as he’s never done that for Hannibal yet. After starting a pot of coffee, he rummages through his fridge for ingredients.

There’s not a whole lot to choose from, but he’s got black forest ham and a dozen eggs. There’s also a loaf wheat bread.

He shrugs as he gets out his skillet, frying a few slices of ham and cooking a few over-easy eggs while the bread toasts in the toaster. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than nothing.

Hannibal comes downstairs followed by a cloud of his delicious smelling cologne, and Will inhales greedily while he comes up behind him at the stove. “When did you wake up?” Hannibal asks, nuzzling at his jawline affectionately.

Will shrugs while setting the eggs and ham to two plates, off to the side of the buttered toast. “Around three, I guess?”

Hannibal sighs, placing a kiss to his shoulder before going to the coffee pot to make them each a cup. “A nightmare? Or were you sleepwalking?”

“Nightmare,” Will replies softly. “I didn’t want to disturb you, so I got out of bed.”

“You should have woken me,” he says while taking two mugs of coffee to Will’s dining table. Will meets him there with their plates. 

“I slept more last night than I have all week,” Will replies, shrugging his shoulders. “I haven’t gotten five hours of sleep in forever.” Hannibal sighs at that, sipping his coffee and glancing down at his plate. Will blushes, “I know it’s not pretty.”

“It’s perfect,” he assures him while cutting into the ham. “Thank you for cooking. I can’t recall the last person who has done so for me.”

“I’d like to cook for you on Sunday. Whatever I can catch at the stream. I know how to cook fresh fish like a pro,” he chuckles. “Maybe not as elegantly as you can do it, but it’s still good.”

Hannibal smiles at that, “That would be perfect, Will.”

“After I talk to the guys and Bev, I’ll text you to let you know about tomorrow,” Will reminds him gently. “Don’t go shopping or anything until I see if they’d even come.”

“They’ll come,” Hannibal assures him after he’s finished chewing. “Why wouldn’t they?”

“Being unstable after killing someone is a pretty good reason to avoid a person,” Will says glibly, earning himself a scowl from his partner.

“Something that Beverly herself has gone through,” Hannibal reminds him. “Her friends in the lab were there for her through her ordeal, as well.”

“We’re not quite friends yet, I don’t think,” Will sighs. “I’ll ask and I’ll let you know, okay?”

Hannibal helps him clean up before they head out and kisses him soundly on the porch before they each leave for work.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EXTRA long chapter before the housewarming party! Thank you guys for always having such nice things to say. It's appreciated <3

His morning goes by quickly, and when he heads to lunch, Bev, Jimmy and Brian are already eating. “Hey,” he says awkwardly. “So, Hannibal offered to make dinner tomorrow night at my house. I don’t know if you guys would like to come for dinner?”

Three sets of eyes look up at him in shock, Bev smiling gently. “Doctor Hotass wants to cook for me? As if I’d say no to that.”

“Seconded,” Jimmy replies with a laugh.

Brian grimaces, biting his lip. “Can I bring my girlfriend?” 

“Of course,” Will says with a nod. “Is beef stew alright with everyone?”

“Oh fuck,” Bev sighs. “He’s making the thing you had the first time we had lunch together?”

“Yeah,” Will chuckles. “If that’s okay with everyone.”

“Fine by me,” Jimmy says while stirring his Campbell’s soup. “Anything is better than what I’ve been eating lately.”

“Sounds good,” Brian agrees. 

“I’ll… uh, text you my address, then. I guess anytime after six is good. Is anyone allergic to dogs?”

They all shake their heads, and Bev is smiling. “Do you have a dog?”

“Two,” Will replies with a smile. “They’re good dogs. Friendly.”

“Would Dr. Lecter like us to bring anything?” Jimmy asks worriedly, and Will shakes his head.

“I wouldn’t know what to tell you to get, even if I thought he would,” he laughs. “Just yourselves.”

“I love that we’re hanging out,” Beverly gushes. “And we have the tux thing tonight! Have you told Hannibal about that?”

Will shakes his head. “I want to surprise him.”

“So no one talks about your sexy new tux,” she giggles and Jimmy sighs.

“I’m not good with secrets,” he laments.

“How is it a secret?” Brian snorts. “Just don’t mention Will getting a tux fitting.”

“Lies by omission,” Jimmy huffs. “It’s still a lie.”

“How the hell is it an omission? You literally just have to not say anything about it. It’s not hard, I doubt the conversation will steer towards the last fitting anyone’s been to,” Brian replies indignantly.

“Okay,” Will interjects, blushing at interrupting their rev up to an argument. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow, and Bev, I’ll meet you at my office for 4?”

“You care if I join you?” Jimmy wonders, and Will shrugs.

“It’s… it’s just a tux fitting,” he says awkwardly, and Jimmy beams.

“I could offer input,” he says with a grin, and Bev snorts.

“When was the last time you went for a tux?” she asks with a laugh.

“Never,” he says ironically. “But I know colors and things like that. Unlike you.” He plucks at her red top and then her blue cardigan, and she slaps his arm.

“Jerk,” she laughs.

The rest of his day goes by quickly much to his dismay. When he gets to his office just after four, Bev and Jimmy are giggling about something and he contains his sigh. “Hey,” he greets them awkwardly. “I’m ready when you guys are.”

“We can take my car,” Bev offers. “It’s barely a mile from here, anyway.”

“That’ll be helpful for all your other fittings,” Jimmy concedes, and Will’s spine stiffens. 

“Other fittings?” he asks while they head out the building. 

“Yeah,” Jimmy replies. “You’ll probably have to go back two more times between now and it being done.”

Will groans, and Beverly laughs. “It’s going to be worth it,” she reminds him. “Think of that man’s face when he sees you all dressed up. He’s going to look just like Richard Gere when he sees Julia Roberts in that red dress!”

“I wish people would stop alluding to that movie,” Will sighs. “I’m not… a hooker.”

“The class situation is the same, though,” Jimmy laughs. “Although Richard Gere played a lawyer. You’re dating a count. He’s way more upper class than a lawyer.”

“A count with a double doctorate,” Beverly sighs. “You really know how to pick’em.” They all climb into her little gray Corolla, and Beverly turns to him in the passenger seat. “Why did we get an invite, by the way? We’re not his usual acquaintances.”

“It’s…” Will sighs and blushes. “It’s for my housewarming, actually. I… I don’t really have… friends. I have no family. You guys are… well,” he doesn’t finish, but the little noise from Jimmy in the backseat makes Will want to jump out of the car.

“We’re friends,” Beverly assures him. “And we’ll warm up your house real good.”

“I’m sure Dr. Lecter has already warmed it several times by this point,” Jimmy chuckles while Will reaches absently for the door handle to escape this whole situation.

“I don’t really have friends either,” Jimmy admits shyly. “I mean, I reek of death most days. I spend about 12 hours a day in the lab. When the hell would I make friends? We’re all we got, so thanks for the invite, Will.”

“You’ve got Brian,” Bev says with a laugh while Jimmy groans. 

“Lucky me,” he says dryly. “He’s a nice enough guy. I just wonder sometimes if it would kill him to replace a box of gloves when he empties one.”

They pull up in front of the small shop, and Will turns to Bev with a raised eyebrow. “Suitables?”

Bev shrugs awkwardly. “Kevin is so damned good at his job. Unfortunately, he also likes puns.”

They head inside, and Will hesitates by the door while Kevin gives Bev a kiss on her cheek. “Hello, darling,” he says warmly. “Thanks for recommending me out!”

“Will’s a good friend,” she says while turning to him and waving him over. “He’s dating Hannibal Lecter, and he doesn’t own a suit.”

“Jesus!” Kevin says, appalled.

“I need a tux, I guess,” Will sighs while Kevin presses a calming hand to his own sternum.

“Rightly so,” Kevin agrees, giving him an obvious once-over with his eyes. Will fidgets while he walks around Will’s body, sucking his teeth. “What we can do is start with measurements. From there, we can move on to price ranges, then fabrics.”

Will nods, and Kevin waves a hand to a little red podium in front of three mirrors. Will gets up there awkwardly while Kevin takes a notebook as well as a measuring tape. “Jacket off, please.”

Will shucks his coat and hands it to Jimmy, who just happens to be closer. The measurements go by quickly enough, but he retakes them all a second time, and Will is getting frustrated already.

“Okay,” Kevin says while writing in the notebook. “Now to the price range. I can make suits for as little as five hundred, those being simple alterations of suits that already exist. However, with your frame, I’d suggest custom. You have a very narrow waist that would benefit from the clean lines of a custom suit.”

“I want that then,” Will replies, and Kevin nods. “I have sixteen hundred I can spend.”

Kevin smiles at that. “Well! That will get you a very nice tux, I can assure you. Fabrics are this way,” he says with a wave of his hand. Bev sits down to diddle on her phone while Jimmy helps Will out with that. “We have these here that will cost about a thousand,” Kevin says, holding out a bolt of fabric that’s just… meh.

Jimmy grimaces and shakes his head. “Something with a little sheen to it?” 

Will sighs at the thought while Kevin beams and holds out a second bolt. “Very good taste,” he praises Jimmy. “A suit in this material will cost about thirteen, but I’ll satin-line the interior of the blazer in a complementary color.”

The fabric is just slightly shiny almost. The inkiness of it catches the light sometimes and absorbs it in others. “Can I get this in a dark blue?” Will asks.

Kevin looks ready to swoon at the idea. “I have just the thing!” He tugs out another bolt, and Will knows it’s perfect when he sees it. It shifts from deep blue to black depending on the lighting, and it’s absolutely perfect. “This will do wonders for your eyes,” Kevin says with a grin.

“A blue tux, though?” Jimmy asks with a twist of his lips.

“I can do it very tastefully,” Kevin assures him. “We’ll line in black satin. I’d suggest the slacks in the same material. Would you like a waist coat?”

“Yes,” Will agrees easily, and Kevin nods. 

“A standard or French cuff?” he asks.

“French,” Will says with a shrug. 

“Do you have cuff links?”

“My Dad’s,” Will nods, blushing a bit. They were very old, but they were Sapphire for his birthstone. They’d match well enough.

“Would you like a standard white button down? Or black?”

“White, I think,” Will says hesitantly. 

Kevin bites his lip and considers it, “I think white is a good idea. It’ll show off the bowtie much better, which I’ll do in the same material. When would you need this suit by?”

Will glances at Jimmy, who turns to Kevin with a grin. “Three and a half weeks? For the opening of Faust.”

“A little tight,” Kevin sighs. “I can make it happen, though. Come back next Friday and I’ll have a rough template for you to try on. We can make adjustments as needed.”

Will nods, “Thank you.”

“I’ll also have the exact price ironed out by then,” he assures Will. “We’ll also have your measurements on hand for anything else you’d like made.”

“This is fine for now,” Will says immediately. He cannot even think about another suit just yet.

They finish up in the shop, and Will leaves the store feeling almost battered. “You’re going to look so damned good,” Beverly assures him, gripping his shoulder for emphasis.

“You think Dr. Lecter will like a blue tux?” Jimmy asks hesitantly, and Will shrugs.

“He really likes me in blue,” he says carefully. “You think it’s a bad idea?”

Beverly shakes her head. “Blue is perfect! Besides, Kevin will make it super tasteful, you’ll see.”

“What if I do all this and he invites someone else?” Will wonders dejectedly. “I mean yeah, we’re seeing one another, but… he hasn’t even mentioned this to me, yet. I feel like he must know I don’t own a tux.”

“Who the hell would he bring aside from you?” Bev asks indignantly. “Besides, the places that man goes for a tux can whip one up for you on a dime. Namely, his dime. I think he’s waiting a bit because he can get you a suit in a week if he needs to.”

Will grimaces at that, imagining several people dancing around him to take his measurements while Hannibal loiters to the side, watching them like a hawk. “I’m glad I did it this way,” he frowns.

“I mean, I know Kevin isn’t from a long line of Europeans that have done tailoring for centuries,” Beverly concedes with a shrug as she pulls away from the curb. “But he can make a mean suit.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Will laughs.

“We investigated Canali,” Jimmy tells Will. “They’re a shop that boasts about having four generations of experience from Italy. One of the Ripper victims three or four years ago worked at the place. They make suits for every upscale yahoo in the tri-state area. There’s no way Dr. Lecter doesn’t go there.”

“He might get his suits made in Italy,” Beverly replies. “He goes there often enough.”

It’s entirely plausible that Hannibal is pretentious enough to fly to Italy to have suits made for himself. Will would not put it past him in the least.

Bev drops them off by their cars, grinning as she opens the window to yell at them as they walk away. “See you guys tomorrow! Will, I’ll bring us some booze!”

Will laughs as he waves to Jimmy before heading to his car. 

When he gets home, he changes into sweats and goes for a jog, and he’s entirely unsurprised that he can only do so for about a half an hour before he walks home, sweaty and sore. He’ll try again in the morning, he decides.

His night is mostly uneventful aside from grading essays and student profiles. He has the rest of the  
lamb for dinner and then feeds his dogs before putting them outside for a little bit. 

He’s in bed by ten, and he can’t really sleep. The bed smells like Hannibal’s cologne, and he’s thinking of him. He’s got his phone in his hand and calling before he can really think it through.

“Beloved,” Hannibal says, and Will can hear that he’s smiling.

“Hi,” Will grins while laying on the pillow that Hannibal used. “I know I’m going to see you tomorrow, but… I wanted to say goodnight.”

“I was missing you too, Will,” Hannibal replies with a chuckle. “How was your day?”

“Really long, actually,” he laughs. “Bev helped me out with something, and it mostly just felt like torture.”

“What was it?” Hannibal wonders.

“A surprise,” Will replies, biting his lip to keep from blurting it out. “You’ll see soon enough.”

“And Beverly had to assist you with whatever it is?” Hannibal prods, and Will chuckles. 

“And Jimmy,” Will tells him honestly. “I had no idea what I was doing, so yeah. All hands on deck.”

“My curiosity is piqued,” Hannibal replies, “but I’m a patient man. What are you doing currently?”

“Laying on the pillow you used last night,” Will says shyly. “It still smells of your cologne.”

“Sweet of you,” Hannibal purrs. “Are you missing me, Will?”

“Yeah,” Will says embarrassingly. “I’ve got it bad.”

“No worse than I do, I assure you. I made you a peach pie tonight. All I have to do is warm it in the oven while we have dinner.”

“You didn’t,” Will moans. “Oh wow, you’re perfect. I haven’t had peach pie in at least a decade.”

“I made the ice cream, too. Vanilla bean and bourbon.”

“Jesus that sounds good,” Will laughs. “Thank you. How lucky am I to have a man that makes ice cream with booze in it from scratch?”

“Terribly lucky,” Hannibal chuckles. “Just as lucky as I am to have you.”

“Christ,” Will sighs, shifting on the bed restlessly. “Can you come here right now?”

“Oh beloved,” he sighs. “I have a few things I need to pick up tomorrow morning in the city, otherwise I’d be on my way.”

Will chuckles. “I was kidding. Kind of.”

“I’ll be there as early as I can be tomorrow. The florist opens at ten, and then I’ll leave from there.”

“The florist?” Will asks hesitantly.

“For the centerpiece on the table as well as a few accent arrangements,” Hannibal says, as though it’s not the weirdest thing Will has ever heard. Accent arrangements?

“Oh,” he says, pressing his lips together. “Of course.”

“If it’s alright with you, I’m planning to bring a few suits and changes of clothes to your house. It’ll be easier for me to spend the night unexpectedly if I have something there already.”

“Sure,” Will says with a grin. “I like that, by the way.”

“You’re welcome to do the same for my house.”

“Bring my crappy sweaters to your house?” Will laughs. “I will do that, darlin’. I guess I’ll let you get some sleep, and I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Hannibal hums. “As soon as I can get to you, beloved.”

“Goodnight,” Will says softly.

“Goodnight,” Hannibal replies, and his response is almost hesitant. As though he doesn’t want to hang up. Will smiles as he disconnects the call.

He has a nightmare, but it doesn’t wake him up. Instead, he wakes up early the next morning to a bed that’s soaked in sweat, and he feels adrenaline coursing through him to the point that his limbs are shaking. He climbs from the bed reluctantly, stripping the wet sheets from them as he leaves the room. He heads to the basement to get them washing right away, as he doesn’t want them to stink of sweat when Hannibal comes later.

Deciding to try again with exercising, he changes again into his sweats and an old hoodie and heads out his door just as the sun is creeping over the horizon. He’s distracted by how beautiful his property is at this time of day, so when he realizes that he’s jogged for the better part of an hour, he heads back home feeling good.

He feeds his dogs the moment he gets back to the house before taking a long shower and shaving his face clean. His breakfast the day before wasn’t terrible, so he makes more eggs and ham with wheat toast, nibbling on it while correcting papers for his students. 

After breakfast, he cleans up his house a little bit and remakes his bed. 

Like a love-sick teenager, he’s trying to kill time until Hannibal gets there.

Hannibal arrives sometimes just after twelve, and Will meets him in the driveway. Hannibal beams at him while bending down to greet his dogs that are thrilled to see him, then pulls Will against him to kiss him like he hasn’t seen him in weeks as opposed to a day.

“Would you mind helping me bring some things in?” Hannibal asks while nuzzling against Will’s jaw. 

“Sure,” Will replies, stepping away reluctantly to note that Hannibal’s car is stuffed with things. Just… packed with stuff. “What?”

“It’s all things we’ll need for tonight,” Hannibal assures him while handing him two floral arrangements that are full of red and pink flowers. Will presses his lips together as he makes several trips into his house, unloading everything that Hannibal assures him they’d need.

There’s a case of assorted wines, and Hannibal gets the whites and rosé’s in the fridge. Will watches him like he’s never seen him before while he whirls through Will’s house like a decorating tornado. 

He sets Will’s table with a shimmery beige tablecloth, running a clean, white, table runner along its center. His table seats six, which is thankfully all the people he’s invited. The biggest floral arrangement goes in the center of the table, and Will realizes that it’s a short arrangement on purpose so people can still see each other around it when they’re seated.

Hannibal unpacks eight wineglasses, washing them each by hand and drying them painstakingly with a cotton towel before setting them to the counter for later. A few other floral arrangements are placed throughout the living area, accenting tables, and bookcases accordingly.

He’s got a few candles with him that are mostly unscented, and they are placed throughout the house as well, and Will guesses he understands what it will look like at night with them all lit. It’ll feel cozy, he supposes.

Once the table and house are mostly to Hannibal’s liking, he gets to work in the kitchen. “Do you… would you like help?” Will asks hesitantly. 

“I am good in the kitchen,” Hannibal assures him. “Those few garment bags are some clothes I’d like to leave here. If you don’t mind finding a space for them in your closet?”

“Of course,” Will grins. “This box? You want me to find a home for the stuff in it, too?”

“If you don’t mind,” Hannibal replies while seasoning a huge cut of beef with seasonings. 

Will nods while taking everything upstairs. His closet is mostly empty, so it’s no work to hang the few things that Hannibal’s brought with him alongside Will’s clothes.

The box that he brought has a few changes of underwear as well as pajamas and sweaters. There are also some toiletries at the bottom that Will places alongside his own things in the upstairs bathroom. He makes Hannibal a drawer in his dresser for everything else, arranging the clothes the way that he likes his clothes arranged. His stuff looks… good in Will’s house. Like it should be there.

When he comes downstairs, his house smells like really good food. Hannibal is searing the meat in his big cast iron Dutch oven, braising the pan with red wine. He covers the pan and gets it in the oven, setting his timer on his watch. “Three hours for that, then I can add vegetables,” he says with a grin.

“You’re amazing,” Will says seriously while cautiously coming around the counter to touch him. He’s avoided it so far because he hates interrupting him when he’s in the kitchen, but he seems to have caught up, so Will takes his chance.

He wraps his arms around his narrow waist, and Hannibal chuckles while tugging him against his chest. Will breathes in his scent at the hollow of his throat, sighing at the familiar, soothing, spice of his cologne. “Have you eaten yet?” Hannibal asks.

Will nods his head from under his chin. “After I went for a jog this morning,” he says pridefully.

“How long have you been exercising?” Hannibal wonders while his fingers trail the length of Will’s spine.

“Just last night and this morning,” Will chuckles. “I think it really did help, because I had a nightmare last night, but it didn’t wake me up. I just kind of… sweat through it.”

“Do you remember it?”

“No,” Will admits while leaning up to press a kiss to Hannibal’s cheekbone. “I don’t even know what I was upset about.”

“You look well rested,” Hannibal notes while easing his thumbs under the hollows of Will’s eyes gently, tracing his cheek with them along the way. “Keep it up. See if it helps.”

“My body isn’t used to it,” Will chuckles while Hannibal leans forward to press kisses to his throat. “My legs feel like jelly.”

“Don’t over-do it,” Hannibal says with a laugh as he steps away to take a big silver bowl out of Will’s fridge. “Find a balance. If you’re sore tomorrow morning, go for a long walk with me instead.”

“I’m kind of hoping that we’ll get our exercise in bed tomorrow morning,” Will says suggestively, and Hannibal grins while pulling a ball of bread dough from the stainless bowl. “Did you make bread?”

“I did,” Hannibal says with a smirk. He divides it into two round loaves before setting them to an aluminum cookie sheet and covering them with a clean, damp, towel. “I know how you love fresh bread. We’ll have to work very hard to burn it off.”

“I have faith that we can do it,” Will replies with a chuckle. “What else needs to be done?”

Hannibal glances around, swiping the loose hair from his forehead absently. “I need to shower.”

“Want to go for a walk with me and the dogs for about a half an hour? I know you’ve got food in the oven; we don’t have to go far.”

Hannibal sighs, glancing at the oven for a moment. “If we stay by the house, then yes.”

Will grabs a tennis ball as they head out the front door, throwing it occasionally far for Winston, and close for Buster. Hannibal chuckles when Buster runs for it, misses, and tumbles in the grass. “They’re not bad,” Hannibal says absently.

“Dogs?” Will asks while throwing the ball very far for Winston, who takes off like a rocket to get it.

“ _Your_ dogs, specifically. Were the others that you had this well trained?”

Will turns to him after bending down to get the slobbery tennis ball, and Buster barks in his excitement. Will tosses it gently, holding a finger up to Winston to discourage him, and Buster takes off to get it. “Yeah,” Will says with a laugh, watching Buster’s little legs heft his chubby body through the grass. “I’ve always been good with dogs, for some reason. Better than with people, definitely.”

“You do well with them,” Hannibal says, and Will turns to him to find him smiling. “They don’t beg, they don’t ruin the furniture. They’re very well-mannered.”

“When I first bring them home, I spend a lot of time with them,” Will says while heaving the ball down the yard for Winston. “They’re very smart. It doesn’t take much for them to learn when they’re doing something wrong. It’s also important to expel their energy like this. It makes them more pliant in the house.”

Will picks up the ball once Winston drops it, tossing it again for Buster, who is starting to slow down already. “When I was a kid, my Dad spent a lot of time drinking in bars,” Will says softly, tipping his head down to look at his shoes. “I had a dog, Charlie. He used to sleep in my room. There were a lot of nights that my Dad didn’t come home, and I was… afraid. Charlie used to make me feel safe. I thought he was such a big dog. I figured if someone broke in or if the monster under my bed tried to get me, Charlie could take them. But… he was just an Australian Shepherd. Maybe fifty pounds, at best. Still, he helped me sleep at night.”

Hannibal touches his hip, resting himself against Will’s back. His warmth seeps into Will’s skin, and Will leans back into him, sighing as Hannibal wraps his arms around his waist from behind. He feels soft lips press a kiss behind his ear. “Should you and I ever live together, I want you to know I won’t keep you from having them.”

Will’s brain stutters to a halt at the idea. If they live together? They’ve known each other for a little over two months, and the thought alone was just… slightly more appealing than it should be. “I’m not ready for that yet,” he admits softly.

“Nor am I,” Hannibal assures him. “Although I do miss you terribly when you aren’t with me.” His palm flattens to Will’s abdomen while his mouth suckles at the skin of his throat, and Will has trouble finding words at the moment.

“I just bought this house,” Will says softly. “It might very well be my dream home. I’m not ready to think about leaving it.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to,” Hannibal says just as softly, his lips brushing against Will’s ear. “We have time, Will.”

Will turns in his arms, wrapping his own around Hannibal’s neck to drag him down for a kiss. It’s returned softly, their lips grazing while Hannibal’s tongue gently slides across his own. He pulls away, a tiny smirk on his lips. “I should go in and check on dinner.”

“I’ll be right behind you,” Will says, pressing their lips together again briefly. 

He watches Hannibal head into the house before turning back to the wet tennis ball at his feet. Winston is the only one who still looks interested, and Will grins before lobbing it down the driveway. For Hannibal to say that he wouldn’t expect Will to leave his house, that implied that what? He’d live here? In Wolf Trap? Will snorts to himself at the thought. 

He sits on the bottom step of his porch, absently petting Buster, who is snoring at his feet. Winston brings the ball back, his tail wagging while a line of panted drool escapes his lolling tongue, and Will laughs. “Tired yet, Winston?” The dog whines when Will lifts the ball, and Will throws it again.

He can picture it, though. Waking up to Hannibal in his kitchen. They’d have a vegetable garden in the summer, Will would grow him whatever fresh herbs he wants. He’d let Hannibal do whatever he wants to the house, and the thought deflates him a bit. He likes what he has, now. He’s not ready to relinquish control of his house or his life to anyone, yet. He did that with Molly, and it made him miserable.

He doesn’t think Hannibal would change much, though. His kitchen, definitely. The man needed counter space and storage for all his gadgets. Will could live with a gourmet kitchen if the rest of the house got to keep its charm.

Will watches as Winston settles out with the tennis ball, chewing it in the grass while stretching out happily. Somewhere down the line, Will might be ready to share his space with his partner. In the meantime, he’s perfectly happy with how things are right now.

He comes into the house a few minutes later with two exhausted dogs, each settling out in their dog beds bonelessly. Hannibal is nowhere to be found, but he can hear the upstairs shower running, and he grins as he heads upstairs to see if he needs a hand with anything.

Just as he steps into the bathroom, the water turns off, and Will pouts. “I was just coming to see if you wanted company,” he says with a grin while hopping up on the bathroom counter.

Hannibal steps out of the shower, gorgeously wet with a towel around his narrow waist. “I should have waited for you, then.”

“You still have to shave?” Will asks hopefully, and Hannibal nods while toweling off his hair with another towel. “Let me do it?”

Hannibal grins while tossing the towel over his shoulder. “If you’d like.”

Will smiles wide while Hannibal fills a sink with warm water and gathers a new razor as well as his shaving cream. Will spreads his thighs on the countertop, tugging Hannibal between them with his ankles. “Might not get much shaving done,” Will laughs, leaning forward to kiss him.

Hannibal grins against his mouth while easing Will forward on the counter a bit. Their kiss is turning heated, so Will pulls away, touching the stubble of Hannibal’s face with his fingers. “I’ve never shaved someone else, so… this might be a blood bath.”

“Wonderful,” Hannibal says drolly, quirking his lips while Will lathers his face in shaving cream. 

The razors that Hannibal buys are truly insane. The glide is smooth as Will pulls the blade over the equally sharp edge of a cheekbone. Hannibal’s hands are smoothing over his thighs, touching his hips, sliding around to his ass, and Will pulls away with a stern look. “Do you want me to cut you?”

Hannibal quirks an eyebrow at that, his dark, damp, hair falling across his forehead. “No.”

“Then stop groping me so I can pay attention to my hands instead of yours,” he says with a laugh.

Hannibal looks chastised for maybe one minute before his hands grip Will’s thighs again, squeezing the flesh in large palms. “It’s your fault for looking so lovely,” Hannibal tells him, tipping his face at the urging of Will’s hands.

“Oh?” Will asks while gliding the blade under his chin. “What exactly is so lovely that it’s worth the risk of bleeding from your face?”

“Your eyes,” Hannibal says, tipping his head to the side for Will’s hands. “Your mouth. The way your slacks are tight here,” he sighs, inching his hands inward to cup the erection that Will has been sporting for the last ten minutes or so. 

Will groans, taking the blade away from Hannibal’s face while his partner strokes him through his slacks. “You are about to look like you shaved with a lawnmower. Cut it out.”

“Forgive me,” Hannibal says with a smirk, trailing his fingers back over to cup the outsides of his thighs again. 

Will presses his lips together while resuming his task, taking his time to smooth his fingers over his face to look for rough spots. The cut of his jawline and the sharpness of his cheekbones are really fucking gorgeous to look at, never mind to touch, and Will is somewhat enjoying this as a ruse to grope his flawless face a bit. Hannibal’s eyes hold his own, the color of them almost mossy green in the light from the bathroom window. “Why do you look like this?” Will asks indignantly.

“Excuse me?” Hannibal asks with a startled arch of his eyebrow. He looks almost offended, and Will leans forward to snatch the towel from his shoulder. He wipes the excess shaving cream from his face while shaking his head.

“You’re just…” Will blushes. “Gorgeous.”

Hannibal rolls his eyes while Will leans forward for a kiss. “It’s just a face.”

“Just a flawless, sculpted, face,” Will says with a laugh. “No big deal.”

Hannibal chuckles while leaning forward, nudging Will closer so his legs can wrap around his waist. Will wraps his arms around his bare shoulders, parting his mouth with his lips and tongue. 

Hannibal has never refused a kiss, and this time is no different. His mouth is soft against Will’s, his long fingers gripping at Will’s ass. The kiss goes deeper, and he hears the little grunt of relief from Hannibal’s throat. There’s a ding from downstairs, and Will parts from his mouth with a pout. “Is that the food alarm?”

“It was,” Hannibal says softly while pressing in for another kiss, this time chastely. “Forgive me, beloved. This will have to wait until later.”

Will groans but lets him go by unwinding his legs from around his waist. Hannibal shrugs on a pair of deliciously tight boxer briefs, easing his erection into them with careful fingers. Will’s mouth is dry while watching him, and he debates asking if Hannibal would let him blow him while he’s in the kitchen.

He’s not that guy, though. Is he? He’s gnawing his lip while he questions that, and Hannibal chuckles while tugging on a pair of gray slacks. “What’s wrong?”

Will’s face heats, and he shakes his head. “Nothing.”

“Come downstairs with me?” he asks, and Will nods absently. 

Hannibal shrugs on a black tee shirt before heading downstairs, and Will wonders if he’s going to give his coworkers a stroke by wearing it in front of them. He doubts it.

The urgency of his arousal dissipates a bit while he watches Hannibal dominate his kitchen. He’s a whirlwind of activity. He’s got an appetizer organized, some kind of pâté arranged on a seeded cracker with minced fresh thyme. There are watermelon cubes topped with prosciutto roses. 

He chops potatoes, carrots, turnips, and shallots before adding them to the Dutch oven with the delicious-smelling roast which he covers in what Will assumes is homemade beef stock. He’s an absolute master in the kitchen and watching him makes Will feel dizzy. “Who taught you to cook like this?”

His gorgeous partner glances up as if just realizing that Will has been here the whole time, smirking while scoring two perfect loaves of risen bread dough. “No one, really,” he says absently. “I suppose my aunt taught me most of the kitchen basics, but mostly it was trial and error. I can’t stress the importance of a decent cookbook.”

“I learned to cook fish from my dad,” Will says absently, adjusting himself a bit on the kitchen stool where he’s perched. “Everything else I’ve learned is from Rachael Ray’s Thirty Minute Meals show. Molly used to watch it sometimes, and she honestly had such good ideas.”

“Thirty Minute Meals?” Hannibal asks doubtfully. “All meals are mostly thirty-minute prep times.”

“You’ve been cooking for like three hours,” Will says with a laugh.

“Yes,” Hannibal agrees with a nod of his head. “But I’ve done barely thirty minutes of prep work for that stew. It cooks for hours but requires no further assistance from me once it’s in the oven.”

“These meals were done in thirty minutes, including prep time.”

“How can you even…?” Hannibal seems morally offended, somehow. “What kind of meals were they? Sandwiches?”

Will laughs, shaking his head. “I got my chili recipe from her.”

“ _How_ can you braise a beef tenderloin long enough with only thirty minutes?” Hannibal asks indignantly.

“You make your chili with ground turkey,” Will says with a chuckle while Hannibal looks like he’s going to swoon.

“I’ll show you how to make a proper chili,” Hannibal says with a twist of his mouth. “Without ground turkey.”

Will chuckles while glancing at the clock on the stove. It was just after four-thirty, so it was about time to start getting ready. “I think I’ll feed the dogs a little early and get them outside for a bit.”

“I’m just going to finish a few things, and then I’m going to get dressed for this evening,” Hannibal agrees with a nod.

Will glances down at himself, plucking at his cream white sweater with unsure fingers. “Should I wear something else?”

“You’re perfect as you are,” Hannibal assures him while wiping down Will’s counters with a clean towel. “I just want to wear something… a bit more than this.”

Suddenly Will is flashing back to Molly’s house, thinking of all the times where no matter what he wore, she’d pluck at the material with a wry twist of her mouth and ask him to change into something else. He knew then, just as he knows now, that she wanted him to find a shirt that would miraculously make him look brawnier. Like magic, maybe. Hannibal is happy with Will just as he is, soft white sweater and a narrow waist. He smiles shyly while thinking about it, noting the appreciative roam of his beautiful man’s eyes. “I think you should stay in that,” Will says with a chuckle. “They want to see you in a tee shirt.”

“Do you want them to see me in a tee shirt?” he asks with a quirk of his eyebrow, and Will sighs. 

“Maybe not,” he laughs, reaching out to touch the bulge of a bicep that’s stretching the sleeve of the shirt enticingly. Hannibal tugs him close, pressing kisses to his cheek and his jaw, and Will laughs at the attention he’s getting. 

His fingers grip the soft material of his sweater while his mouth descends down the column of Will’s throat. It’s a v-neck, so his clavicle is on display, which must have taunted Hannibal because his mouth goes there on autopilot, suckling and kissing with soft lips. “I don’t have time for this,” he remarks absently against Will’s skin. “The color of this sweater with your skin is distracting.”

Will laughs, lacing his fingers through Hannibal’s hair. “We don’t have time for a quickie?”

“A quickie?” Hannibal wonders, glancing up at Will with a moue of distaste. “As in ten minutes to savor you?”

“Mm,” Will agrees while Hannibal undoes Will’s jeans, sliding the zipper down. “As in a mess-free quickie.”

“Mess-free?” Hannibal sighs, settling out on his knees to tug Will’s cock out from his boxers. “Not sure I can be persuaded about the benefits of such an encounter.” He yanks Will’s jeans and boxers down his thighs, and Will blushes about being exposed like this in the middle of his kitchen. 

His hand strokes Will’s cock while he nuzzles his face against Will’s thigh, scenting him embarrassingly. “Hannibal,” Will begs uselessly, gripping the counter behind him like a lifeline.

He wastes no more time, swallowing Will down swiftly. There’s no languid exploration with lips and tongue. It’s just hot, wet suction and deft fingers working his cock so relentlessly that Will’s thighs quiver. “Fuck,” he gasps, leaning back to rest his elbows against the counter for support. “Wait,” Will pleads, gripping Hannibal’s shoulder. 

The delicious mouth leaves his cock, looking up at him in surprise. “I want inside of you,” Will pleads. 

“So much for mess-free,” he chuckles. “If we’re quick about it, I have time for another shower.”

Will nods, gripping Hannibal’s bicep to tug him back up to his feet. His hands work quickly to undo Hannibal’s belt, then his slacks, shoving the material of them as well as his boxers down his thighs while Hannibal sucks his tongue into his mouth lewdly. 

Will shucks his own sweater, breaking their kiss for only a moment before crashing their mouths back together. He turns them, pressing between Hannibal’s shoulder blades so he rests his torso against the counter, his gorgeous ass out on display. Will groans while palming his cock, reaching out for the bottle of olive oil on the counter. He coats his fingers quickly, easing two inside of Hannibal, earning himself a relieved little sigh from the other man.

He works his fingers quickly, stretching and occasionally brushing against his prostate, and Hannibal arches his spine, presenting his entrance to Will in such a way that he has to look away to avoid coming like a teenager.

He adds one more finger quickly, stretching him perhaps a bit too soon, but Hannibal doesn’t seem overly concerned. “Will, _please_ ,” he sighs while his beautiful hands grip Will’s countertops desperately.

Will slicks his cock with more olive oil before pressing the blunt head of it against Hannibal’s entrance. He breaches him slowly, giving him time to adjust to the intrusion as he pops past that ring of tight muscle. “Hannibal,” Will sighs, watching himself slide inside almost in awe.

Once he’s as deep as he can go, he eases back gently before pressing back inside, gripping Hannibal’s hips with sweaty palms. Hannibal presses back against him, bouncing himself off of Will’s hips, and Will hisses while digging his fingers into the flesh of Hannibal’s hips. 

He picks up his pace, spreading his thighs a bit while fucking into Hannibal roughly. His gorgeous partner is gripping his countertop, using it as leverage to bounce back against Will as he thrusts forward, causing Will’s cock to drill the spot inside of him ruthlessly.

“Will,” he gasps when Will reaches around his hip to jerk at his thick cock in time with his thrusts. He feels so fucking good that Will moans, pounding into him while pleasure pulses through his gut.

Their pace is relentless, the sounds of skin slapping and harsh breathing filling the kitchen. Will’s toes curl in his shoes, and he staves off his orgasm only barely while Hannibal bounces on his cock relentlessly.

Hannibal comes with a gasp, streaking come across Will’s cabinets and clenching around Will’s cock so harshly that Will bellows out, slamming into him a few more times before he comes deep inside of Hannibal’s body. They’re gasping and chuckling as Will rests against his strong back, and Will plants a few kisses to his spine lovingly. 

Hannibal shivers as Will withdraws from him, and Will trails his kisses down his back, settling out against the floor to lap at his stretched rim. Hannibal moans, gasping while Will licks into him, cleaning him of the trace of olive oil and his spend while fucking into him with his tongue. “Will, fuck,” he sobs, and Will reaches out to grip his quivering thighs while he laps against him. Will relents eventually, as Hannibal is absolutely quivering under his tongue and he doesn’t want to make him miserable. He presses a final kiss to the small of his back, and Hannibal stands on shaking legs. “I think I need a shower, too,” Will chuckles as he comes back to his feet.

Hannibal turns and crushes him in a kiss, his tongue lapping deep in his mouth while Will gasps in surprise. Will smiles against his mouth while Hannibal nips at his bottom lip. “You’re trying to kill me, I think,” Hannibal chuckles.

Their shower is as quick as they can make it before they get dressed. Will pulls on his sweater again while tugging his jeans back up his legs, and Hannibal tugs on a black sweater that looks like it’s molded to his body, pairing it with slim-fitting gray slacks.

He’s mouthwatering, and Will’s not sure that this is better or worse than the tee shirt.

Hannibal heads downstairs to check on dinner and clean up their mess in the kitchen, and Will gathers his dogs to get them outside one more time before people start arriving. He stands on his porch while his dogs frolic through the yard. He could have this every day with Hannibal, if he wanted. He could come home to him, go to bed with him, _live_ with him. None of it sounds like a compromise. It sounds perfect, in fact. All he has to do is ask.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Housewarming party! AND a little something that we've all wanted to see, I'm sure. 
> 
> You are all wonderful. Thank you for your kindness and kudos, it's fuel for the fire. <3

He watches Bev pull into his driveway while he’s outside with his dogs, and she gets out of the car with two bottles of liquor in her arms. “Fireball and apple schnapps,” she laughs, holding them up. “Your house is cute, Graham.”

He smiles as she comes up the porch, glancing out to look over his property. “Just moved in before I started at Quantico,” he says with a shrug. “You found my house okay?”

“Yeah,” she shrugs. “My phone took me right here, no problemo. Is that stream a part of your property?”

“It is,” he says with a wide smile. “Might be the biggest reason I bought the house.” His dogs come up the porch, sniffing at her feet. “Guys, this is Bev. Bev, this is Buster and Winston.”

She laughs while kneeling to pet them, Buster wagging his tail so hard his hips are swaying. “What’s up dogs,” she laughs. “Where is Doctor Hotass?”

A throat clears from the doorway, and Bev looks like she’s about to combust from embarrassment. “Hello Beverly,” Doctor Hotass greets warmly while Will chuckles and shakes his head. “It’s good to see you.”

“Oh God I’m sorry,” she blurts out, extending a hand to shake even though she looks like she wants to run back to her car. “It’s good to see you, Dr. Lecter.”

“Dr. Hotass?” Will teases, and Beverly slaps his arm. 

“It’s fine. Please, call me Hannibal,” Hannibal requests with a teasing grin as he waves a hand to welcome her into the house. He helps her out of her coat while Will takes the booze from her hands, carrying the bottles into the kitchen. 

“Your house is really adorable,” she says with an awkward smile, a hot blush still staining her cheeks as she avoids eye contact with either of them.

“Thanks,” Will says from the kitchen. “I’ll show you around.”

He takes her on a tour of the house while Hannibal feeds his dogs quickly, and she grabs his arm. “I have to leave,” she says quickly. “Oh my God I am so embarrassed.”

“Bev it’s fine,” he assures her while standing outside the bathroom. “Hannibal isn’t a stiff. Besides, I already told him you think he’s fuckhot so it’s not news to him.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she screeches while slapping him again. She laughs while covering her face. “Well, it was nice meeting you, I’ve got to move to another country.”

“Wine?” Will asks with a laugh as she nods. 

“The whole bottle, please.”

His doorbell rings, and Will heads to the door to welcome Jimmy inside. “You didn’t say you owned a farm,” he says with a chuckle. “Nice place you’ve got here.”

“Thanks,” Will says with a shrug while Jimmy hangs his coat. “I was just getting Bev a glass of wine,”

“The bottle, you mean,” she interjects, and Will shakes his head at Jimmy’s questioning face. 

“I’ll tell you later,” Will promises him. “Wine?”

“Sure,” he nods while walking into Will’s living room. 

“Red, white or pink?” Will calls from the kitchen, and Bev says white while Jimmy says pink. 

Hannibal touches his hip as he passes by to go to the fridge to take out two bottles, opening them at the counter. “Sorry about Bev,” Will says softly, and Hannibal chuckles. 

“It’s fine, Will,” he assures him while arranging two platters of appetizers. “Flattering, I suppose.”

Will carries the two glasses into the living room while Hannibal brings the appetizers, everyone settling into seat awkwardly. “Good to see you, Dr. Lecter,” Jimmy says politely while shaking his hand. 

“Mr. Price,” Hannibal says with a nod. “Please, call me Hannibal.”

Jimmy looks about ready to swoon, and Will understands that feeling entirely. “Hannibal,” he says automatically, and then swigs his wine.

“Dinner will be done in about an hour,” Hannibal tells them, smiling gently while sipping his own glass of red wine. “In the meantime, please help yourself to the appetizers.”

“Thank you,” Beverly says while reaching out for a cracker with pâté. She moans while eating it, nodding her head. “This is awesome.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Hannibal says politely.

“So you just moved in a few weeks ago,” Beverly says while turning to Will. “The house is perfect.”

“Thanks,” Will shrugs. “It needed a lot of work, but I don’t mind that too much. I like working around the house.”

“You were lucky to find property in this area,” Jimmy says, then sips his wine. “It usually goes quickly in Wolf Trap.”

“I think I had some luck because this house was a mess,” Will replies. “I needed a new roof, and there was mold and water damage in all the walls. It was essentially down to the studs right after I bought it.”

“Not a bad thing,” Hannibal says with a shrug. “It merely means you can customize it the way you want to.”

“The bathroom is super cute,” Beverly grins. “You did good picking the stuff in there.”

“Hannibal picked the bathroom stuff,” Will blushes. “I have no idea about stuff like that.”

Brian and his girlfriend Kelley arrive shortly after, and conversation is polite while they get to know each other. Beverly joins Will in the kitchen where she mixes each of them an apple pie shot. “Should we at least offer one to the others?” she asks with a giggle.

Will shakes his head, clinking his shot glass against her own. Hannibal grimaces from the counter while watching them both take the shot, Bev wincing as it goes down. “God, that’s gross,” Will laughs.

“Oh, shut it,” she scolds him while mixing another one. “It tastes like cinnamon apples!”

“It smells terrible,” Hannibal says miserably while cutting a loaf of crusty bread.

“You want one, Hannibal?” she asks teasingly, and he scowls at her while shaking his head.

Will and Bev share a little snicker of laughter while doing another shot, each gradually making their way to obnoxious drunk with gleeful abandon.

When they sit down for dinner, Hannibal serves each of them and brings a basket of hot bread to the table. It’s absolutely delicious, and no one is too shy to ask for a second serving, which Hannibal gets them without question. “Thank you for cooking, Hannibal,” Beverly says politely. “It was amazing.”

“You’re very welcome,” he smiles warmly. “I can’t recall the last dinner party I had where anyone asked for seconds. It’s refreshing.”

“He loves feeding people,” Will laughs, reaching out to lace his fingers in Hannibal’s own. “I just took up jogging because I’ve been eating like a baby cow.”

“I have literally never had fresh bread,” Kelley laughs. “It’s insane how good it is.”

“I hope everyone left room for dessert,” Hannibal grins while rubbing his thumb against Will’s wrist. “I have a peach pie and vanilla bourbon ice cream if anyone is interested.”

“Do you have a brother that’s single?” Beverly asks, and Hannibal chuckles while Will rolls his eyes at her.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Hannibal says while standing from the table. “I’ll get our dessert.”

Jimmy leans into Will’s space the moment he’s gone, touching his arm while Bev and Kelley talk around them. “Did you pick the floral arrangements?” he asks quietly.

Will huffs out a laugh. “No, Hannibal did. Why?”

Jimmy gives him a slow smile, pointing to each flower. “I guess you don’t know flower language, right?”

“The meaning of flowers?” Will asks. “Not really, no. I don’t really know what any of those are aside from the roses.”

“Camellia,” Jimmy says while pointing to a giant pink bloom. “It symbolizes desire and passion. Chrysanthemum, it symbolizes fidelity. Dahlia, it means proud love without compromise. These here,” Jimmy says while touching a cluster of red blooms. “These are Sweet Williams. They mean gallantry, but I think in this case he meant them just for their name. And the red roses, well,” Jimmy sighs. “They mean love. True love.”

Will’s throat goes dry while Jimmy is talking, and he’s wondering if Hannibal really put that much thought into a flower arrangement. The flowers are too well planned for it to be a coincidence, and Will glances up at Jimmy with an open mouth. “You’re sure about that?”

“Oh yeah,” Jimmy replies, touching a dahlia gently. “Flower language fascinates me.”

“What are you two gossiping about?” Brian asks with a conspiring grin. 

“Nothing,” Will says quickly. “Jimmy was just saying he likes the flower arrangement.”

“I love it,” Jimmy says with a waggle of his eyebrows while Will blushes.

“Don’t get him started,” Beverly warns him with a laugh. “He’ll start reading the arrangement. He loves that shit.”

“Would anyone like coffee with dessert?” Will asks distractedly. 

“I would, if it’s not too much trouble,” Jimmy replies, and Will shakes his head.

“I’ll make a pot. I’ll be right back.”

Will abandons the table to find Hannibal plating several slices of pie, and he can’t help himself when he wraps his arms around Hannibal’s narrow waist. He presses a kiss to his throat, and Hannibal smiles while glancing at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” Will assures him. “I’m just appreciating you.”

Hannibal smiles while pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Would you mind helping me clear the table?”

“Not at all,” Will says thickly. 

Dessert is unbelievably good. Will moans through the whole slice of perfect pie, and Beverly laughs.

“Doing okay there, champ?”

“It’s my favorite,” Will chuckles, and he notices the wide smile on Hannibal’s face. “I haven’t had it in at least ten years.”

“My Nana used to make peach pie,” Brian says with an appreciative groan. “She was from Georgia, though. Were you raised in the south?”

“Louisiana,” Will replies, and he says it just like someone from there would say it, ‘Lews-ee-ana.’

“Really?” Brian laughs. “Where’s your accent?”

“Cover it up, mostly,” Will shrugs. “It comes out with enough drinks or if I’m overtired.”

“I kinda lost mine after moving to Baltimore,” Brian shrugs. “Drinking brings it out, I agree with that.”

“The way he says darling sometimes,” Hannibal looks absolutely smitten as he turns to Will. “It’s all southern charm.”

“Darlin’,” Beverly grins. “My God you guys are cute. How did you meet?”

“I went to him after reading his paper on social exclusion,” Will replies slowly. “I was a P.I. at the time. In my spare time I was writing a profile on the Ripper.”

“That paper was amazing,” Jimmy sighs. “It’s a shame you left forensic psychology. You were excellent.”

“Thank you,” Hannibal says with a polite nod. “Too much violence, though.”

“Preach,” Beverly agrees with a sip of her wine. “So how long ago was that?”

“Two months ago?” Will asks, and Hannibal nods. “Time flies.”

“I asked Will to dinner that day and he agreed,” Hannibal says proudly. 

“Who the hell would say no?” Will laughs, leaning forward to press his lips to Hannibal’s cheek. Hannibal turns a beautiful shade of pink, looking immensely pleased about Will’s public display of affection.

“We’re glad you recommended Will to Jack,” Jimmy says, eyeing the two of them with a dreamy expression on his face. “He’s been a great addition to our team.”

“Cheers to that,” Beverly says with a nod of her head, clinking her wine glass against Jimmy’s own. 

Will blushes furiously, while Kelley turns to him. “You caught that guy that was hurting those girls, right? That was you?”

“Kel,” Brian says softly, and she looks confused about why that’s not a broachable topic. 

“It’s fine,” Will assures him with an awkward shrug. “Yeah, I did.”

“I was afraid to even walk to my car at night,” she says softly. “So thank you. I know what you did was difficult, but… I feel safer.”

Will glances up at her and realizes that she absolutely fits McAdory’s victim profile. She’s thin with long dark hair, and her wide dark eyes are expressive. She could have absolutely been one of his victims, and Will is ridiculously glad that no one else would be, now. 

Brian touches her back gently, and she leans into him, soothed by his touch. 

Conversation eases into more comfortable topics, and it’s not long after that before everyone starts to head out.

Will helps Hannibal clean up once everyone leaves, and it takes a while because Will doesn’t own a dishwasher. “I can clean up,” Will says softly while reaching out to still Hannibal’s hands in the sink. “Go relax. You’ve done so much.”

“I’m perfectly fine with you washing, if you’d like,” Hannibal says with a smile. “I’ll dry and put them away.”

“Deal,” Will says softly while leaning up for a kiss that’s returned gently.

It moves quickly with the two of them working, and Will smiles as he watches Hannibal put away the dishes, moving automatically throughout his kitchen. He loves that his partner knows where everything is. He loves that Hannibal feels at home, here. 

He loves him, and Will wants to say it so badly it’s burning a hole in his stomach every moment he doesn’t.

Saying it will ruin it, though. It always has. 

“It was immensely enjoyable to have a dinner party where there was no pretense,” Hannibal says while wiping down the counters. “They are good people, Will.”

“I think so, too,” Will agrees while stepping up to wrap his lovely man in a hug. His arms are still a little stiff, a little unrelenting, but it’s getting better with each hug that Will imposes on him. 

“There’s still a bit of stew left,” Hannibal says before pressing a kiss to Will’s temple. “I packed it into two containers. Take one for Beverly on Monday.”

“Dr. Hotass making her lunch,” Will laughs, squeezing him a little tighter. “She’s going to be so pleased. Thank you.”

“Is that how the two of you refer to me?” Hannibal asks with a huff of laughter.

“Sometimes,” Will says with a blush. “She says it mostly to make me blush, I think.”

“I can understand the appeal,” Hannibal notes while touching the heat of Will’s cheek with his long fingers. 

Will glances at the clock to note it’s just after eleven, and he tips his face up to press a kiss to a sharp jaw. “I’m going to let the dogs out, then we’re going to bed.”

Hannibal heads upstairs to get ready for the night while Will tends to his dogs. Will uses the bathroom afterwards, brushing his teeth and washing his face before heading to the bedroom.

His partner is already sprawled in the sheets, so Will strips down to his boxers before climbing into the bed with him. “Was there more peach pie?” 

Hannibal blinks his eyes open, turning to Will with a quirk of his lips. “There is one slice left. I intentionally set it aside for you.”

“You are a blessing,” Will sighs, straddling his waist to press kisses to his throat. Hannibal laughs as Will kisses down his chest, mapping his torso with his lips. “It was the best I’ve ever had. Just so you know, that’s really saying something.”

“It will be better when peaches are in season,” Hannibal says softly, his breathing hitching as Will suckles on his nipple. “Better peaches make better pies.”

Will presses damp kisses to the strong muscles of his abdomen, slinking down his thighs to mouth at his erection through his thin briefs. Hannibal sighs while Will wraps his lips around him through his underwear, breathing out a huff of hot air against him. 

He’s thinking about the flower arrangement. He’s thinking about what Jimmy told him of their meaning, and he’s wondering if Hannibal has trouble admitting his feelings just as much as Will does. If Jimmy hadn’t told him, he’d never have known what they meant. It would have just been a floral arrangement, no questions asked. Now that he knows, he’s going to look into it. Maybe ask Jimmy for help in making an arrangement of his own. 

In the meantime, Will wants him. He wants him in a way that he’s never really wanted anyone in his life. “I want you inside of me, Hannibal.”

Hannibal’s mouth falls open at that, staring at Will as though the thought hasn’t occurred to him before this. “I’d be your first,” Hannibal says slowly and Will nods.

He’d like Hannibal to be his last too, but he can’t bring himself to say that. “I want you to be,” Will replies shyly, pressing more kisses to his abdomen. “Do you want to?”

Hannibal grips him under his arms and hauls him up the bed to press a kiss to his mouth, lacing his fingers through his curls. “I want to. Anything, Will.”

Will laughs when Hannibal kisses down his throat, gripping his hips as he rolls on top of him. Hannibal kisses down his chest, laving his nipples with his tongue and gripping his hipbones in his large hands. “I want you just like this,” Hannibal says between kisses to his stomach. “I want to see those eyes, that mouth. I want to see you.”

Will arches his back as he wraps his legs around Hannibal’s waist, tugging him closer with his legs. “I want to see you, too,” he admits breathlessly. 

Hannibal leans over him, parting his mouth with lips and tongue. The kiss is deep and wet, their mouths slanting and gliding deliciously as Hannibal eases his hips down, grinding his thick cock in his briefs against Will’s own. Hannibal eases back to tug his boxers down, gliding them off of Will’s legs with a bit of fuss, seeing as how they weren’t keen on putting distance between them. 

He hooks his fingers in the band of Hannibal’s tight briefs, easing them over his hips and down his long legs, far enough that Hannibal can wiggle out of them and toss them to the floor with Will’s own underwear. They both sigh as their cocks drag together, Hannibal easing himself between Will’s spread thighs. 

Hannibal kisses him like he means to devour him. His tongue demanding against his own, his lips pressing firmly. His hands hold Will’s jaw up so he can slant his mouth more fully, and Will moans into his mouth, pressing his fingers into the dimples of his lower back. 

Hannibal breaks away only to reach to the end table for lube, and Will spreads his thighs a little more, making room for him. His body is lit up with anticipation. He knows what Hannibal’s fingers feel like inside of him, and he’s aching to know what being stretched around his girth with feel like. He wants Hannibal to finish inside of him. He wants, plain and simple, and he moans when the first slippery press of his gorgeous partner’s long fingers rubs gently over his entrance.

“You are so beautiful like this,” Hannibal says softly, his voice lilting and dark. “The flush of arousal on your skin. The way your eyes darken with yearning. To know that it’s for me, Will,” he sighs as he breaches Will with a finger, pressing into him as gently as he can manage. 

Will’s mouth falls open on a gasp, watching the strong tendons flex in Hannibal’s forearm as he eases his finger inside of him. He slides his eyes up that strong arm, appreciating the bulge of his bicep, the curve of a corded shoulder. Hannibal is breathtaking in the low light of the bedroom, his chocolate hair falling over his forehead while his dark, amber eyes watch his finger disappear inside of Will’s body. 

He eases another finger into Will, and the mild stretch combined with the gentle scissoring of his fingers pulls a gasp from Will’s mouth. It doesn’t hurt in the least, but the realization that this is actually happening makes him slightly nervous.

He’s letting Hannibal in. He’s in his heart, his mind, his every breath, and now his body, too. The barriers between them are mostly decimated, and Will wonders what will happen if Hannibal ever grows tired of him.

If he leaves.

Will doesn’t think he’d survive the separation.

Hannibal eases another finger inside of him, and they both sigh as Will’s body makes room for him. “You’re very quiet,” Hannibal notes softly, his dark eyes flicking up to Will’s face to take in his expression. “If you’re not comfortable, we can stop.”

“It’s not that,” Will says quietly, arching his back as Hannibal glides his fingers over his prostate, causing him to gasp. “I was just thinking of what you mean to me.”

Hannibal’s dark eyes watch him as he strokes the spot inside of him, causing Will to shudder. “What do I mean to you, Will?”

“Everything,” Will sighs, wrapping his legs around his partner’s narrow waist. “Everything.”

The admission causes some of Hannibal’s carefully constructed walls to crumble, and suddenly Will can feel him. All of him. The devastating crush of his adoration pulls the air from Will’s lungs. The consuming possessiveness of his emotions regarding Will are almost suffocating. 

It’s beautiful.

Hannibal removes his fingers and slicks himself with more lube before nudging his entrance with the blunt head of his cock, and Will tugs him closer with his legs, lacing his fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. With a sigh, Hannibal eases himself inside of Will as gently as he can.

The stretch is mildly painful, but it’s nothing compared to the immensity of the emotions passing between them. It feels incredible to be filled this way, and Will knows that wouldn’t be true of just anyone. He’s ridiculously glad he’s waited for this to be with someone he loves, especially with his gift.

The emotions rolling off Hannibal right now are massive. There’s pleasure, but it’s not the biggest emotion. There’s appreciation and adoration warring for dominance. There’s something darker and more possessive, too. Something that curls around the other emotions, almost predatory and rapacious in its regard of Will.

It’s so intense that Will feels the urge to flinch away from it, but he doesn’t. It’s Hannibal, and Will accepts him in everything he feels, no matter how shocking it may be.

Will groans as Hannibal bottoms out, his hips sitting flush against the back of Will’s thighs. “Are you alright?” Hannibal asks softly, leaning over his body to press kisses to his jaw and mouth.

Will tips his face to capture his lips while easing his legs around Hannibal’s waist, sliding his thighs up his sides. “It’s good,” he breathes against Hannibal’s mouth. “So good.”

Hannibal sighs, thrusting gently into him. Every soft glide nudges his prostate, and Will grips his face in his hands, smoothing his fingers over the sharp edges of his cheekbones. “You’ve given me a rare gift,” Hannibal whispers against his mouth while his hands grip Will’s hips. 

“Not rare,” Will grins, leaning up to kiss him again. “You can have me whenever you want me. I’m yours.”

“Mine,” Hannibal agrees, his voice dark and possessive. He begins thrusting in earnest, each snap of his hips grazing Will’s prostate relentlessly. Will cries out, arching into it while spreading his thighs more, giving Hannibal room to move.

He grips the back of Will’s thighs and lifts his hips up, folding Will’s legs against his chest as he thrusts deeper. Will moans at the new angle, how Hannibal is able to perfectly hit that spot every time, now. His cock is throbbing between their strong stomachs, the dampness of it catching on their skin with each snap of Hannibal’s hips.

Will laces his fingers through his partner’s hair, cradling his face to bring him back down for a kiss. It’s a gentle thing, all soft lips and sweet tongue, completely in line with the gentle way that Hannibal is making love to him.

And there’s no mistake about that, it’s exactly what he’s doing. Making love.

Hannibal reaches between them, wrapping Will’s weeping cock in his long fingers, and strokes him in time with his deep thrusts. Will’s eyes roll back and a startled moan escapes his mouth. The multiple points of pleasure make his toes curl, sending heat through his gut that makes his balls tighten.

“Will,” Hannibal gasps against the side of his face, pressing kisses to whatever skin is closest to his mouth. His hand that isn’t working Will’s cock is laced through the curls at the nape of his neck, tugging them gently.

Will tips his head back, and Hannibal suckles on the skin of his throat, gliding his mouth across his Adam’s apple. “Hannibal,” Will pleads, gripping his shoulders, then sliding his hands down the sweaty expanse of his strong back. “Please.”

Hannibal takes the desperate little hint that he needs more, and he sits back on his knees. His hips snap harder while his hand jerks him more purposefully, and Will writhes against the sheets, moaning while arching his back. It’s perfect. It feels like he should have had this every day of his life.

“Come with me, Will,” Hannibal begs breathlessly, and Will moans low and loud as that spot is absolutely drilled inside of him. He comes with a startled gasp, spilling over Hannibal’s fingers and across his stomach. His muscles clamp down, and it’s so fucking good to have something to clamp down on as he comes. 

Hannibal seems to agree because he bellows out as Will’s muscles grip him. He thrusts a few more times through the grip of Will’s muscles, and then he’s coming. Will feels him hot and wet inside of him, and he claws Hannibal down again, covering his mouth with his lips. The kiss is messy, all wet tongue and panted breath, but Will wouldn’t want it any other way.

Hannibal smooths his damp curls from his forehead, pressing kisses to his face. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Not even a little,” Will laughs while gliding his thumb across his cheekbone. “I love that you were so gentle, but… you can be rougher with me. I won’t break.”

Hannibal’s face pinches very briefly as he withdraws from Will’s body, settling out to Will’s side. Their limbs are still entangled, and they’re still close enough that Will can feel his breath ghosting across his face. “Your first time should be gentle. I wish my first time like this would have been.”

“Was it… bad?” Will asks hesitantly, and Hannibal licks his lips as he looks away.

“It was in France. I was the youngest person admitted to medical school, only sixteen at the time. I was studying under a Doctor Dumas, who… was extremely interested in me. I allowed him to, one evening after our classes were over. I think I bled for two days.”

Will’s hackles are up, and his lips press together. “At sixteen you weren’t old enough to allow him to, Hannibal. He took advantage.”

“I can see that now,” Hannibal agrees with a shrug. “It was awful enough that I didn’t allow anyone to do it again for ten years. The second time was… better. It’s never been as good as it is with you, though.”

“Is Dumas still practicing?” Will asks. Will wants to kill him, but that’s sort of out of the question.

“He passed,” Hannibal replies, glancing away again. “He’s no longer a concern.”

“I’m glad he’s gone,” Will says softly, stroking the side of Hannibal’s jaw with his fingers. “I wanted to kill him for hurting you.”

Hannibal smiles at that, tipping his face into Will’s palm. “Everything that’s happened has led me here, beloved. I excelled in Sorbonne, almost in spite of him. It’s what garnered the attention of Johns Hopkins here in Baltimore. I don’t regret a single thing that’s brought me to you.”

“I want to know everything about you,” Will says softly, blushing a bit against the pillow. “Everything.”

“In time,” Hannibal assures him. His face pinches with that, and Will wonders what that’s about.

He doesn’t ask, though.

“You still want to come with me to my stream tomorrow?” he asks instead.

The darkness on Hannibal’s face smooths out. “There’s nothing I want more.”

Will smiles at that, leaning forward to kiss him again before snuggling into his arms. His eyelids are drooping, and he squeezes Hannibal before he falls asleep. “If I get sweaty and gross from a nightmare, just shove me away.”

“Never,” Hannibal replies immediately, tugging him closer against his chest. “I could never. Sleep, beloved.”

Will doesn’t need to be told twice.


	21. Chapter 21

He wakes up the next morning, still entangled in Hannibal’s arms. He’s a little bit too warm, but he’s thrilled that Hannibal didn’t leave the bed like he usually does. He tips his face against his chest as he stretches out, pressing a kiss over his sternum.

“Good morning, beloved,” Hannibal says, and it sounds like he’s been awake for a while.

Will sits up a bit, looking down at his gorgeous man. His hair is a little wild, sticking up here and there. His eyes are liquid amber in the early morning light streaming from the window, and Will grins down at him. “You stayed in bed.”

Hannibal’s fingers gently lace through the curls at the nape of his neck while his eyes slide over his face. “You looked so beautifully peaceful. I couldn’t imagine leaving you.”

“No nightmares?” Will asks in disbelief.

“None,” Hannibal assures him. He props himself up on his elbow, dragging Will’s mouth to his own. Will sighs into the kiss, touching the soft skin of his throat. Hannibal pulls away regretfully. “I must leave you now, though. My bladder demands it.”

Will laughs, flopping back against the mattress. “We should both get up, then. The dogs probably need to go out too.”

Will climbs from the bed, wincing at all the dried come on his stomach and between his thighs. “Take a shower,” Hannibal chuckles. “I can get the dogs outside.”

“Thank you,” Will says with an embarrassed laugh.

Hannibal grabs a pair of clean briefs from his drawer before heading downstairs, and Will gathers a clean pair of jeans, a sweater, and boxers for himself before heading to the bathroom.

He shaves, showers, and brushes his teeth before heading downstairs, where he hears the downstairs shower running, too. He goes to the front door to get his dogs, and then takes out the pan of dog food from the fridge to feed them.

Once they’re all set, he gets a pot of coffee going and rummages through his fridge for breakfast. Hannibal emerges from the bathroom, wet and only in a pair of black briefs. “Give me a moment, Will. I wanted to make breakfast for us.”

Will’s throat is dry as he looks him over, appreciating all that golden muscle that’s still damp from his shower. “Sure,” he says dumbly.

Hannibal grins as he heads back upstairs to get dressed, so Will busies himself with making a cup of coffee in the meantime.

He comes back downstairs in a soft looking gray sweater and black slacks, before getting busy in Will’s kitchen. He’s saved some of the cooked stew meat from last night, and he shreds it up before adding it to a pan of mushroom and onions, sauteing them out. 

He makes an absolutely delicious frittata out of it, and Will is stumped by how effortless it was. “This is amazing,” Will tells him as he moans while eating it. “Such a good idea to save some of the meat.”

“It’s how I usually make my frittatas,” Hannibal replies while sipping his coffee. “Breakfast should be good, but no one has time to slow roast meat for a frittata.”

“Genius,” Will chuckles. “So I have a spare pair of waders. I don’t know if you want to fish with me, or if you want to just sit with me while I fish. It’s entirely up to you and there’s no hard feelings either way.”

Hannibal takes a delicate bite of his breakfast, scraping some onto his fork with his knife as he considers that. “I haven’t gone fishing since I was just a boy,” he says eventually, his eyes downcast towards his plate. “Mischa and I would go to the pond by our property. I don’t think we ever caught a thing that was worth eating, but I enjoyed my afternoons with her, regardless. I’ll… I’ll borrow that pair of waders if you don’t mind.”

Will smiles softly, reaching out to touch the back of his hand. “I don’t mind at all.” Will is actually ecstatic, but he thinks any enthusiasm might not be appreciated at the moment. The realization that Hannibal has just shared something so personal with him, as well as expressed a desire to make new memories isn’t lost to him. There’s also a selfish part of him that’s immensely pleased. He hasn’t gone fishing with anyone since Henri was alive, and before that, his dad. He’s taken Walt a bunch of times, but the kid couldn’t put down his gaming device long enough to actually go fishing. 

“I haven’t gone fishing with anyone since Henri,” he says eventually. He figures Hannibal would appreciate the sentiment of it, as well as the reciprocity of sharing. “Before that, my dad. It’ll be nice to share this with you.”

“You told me that you took Walt, didn’t you?” Hannibal asks.

Will laughs at that, shrugging his shoulders. “I took him, yeah. He never fished, though. He’d sit on the side of the stream and play video games. I’m not sure that kid can manage an hour without an electronic device. The last time I took him, he asked when we were leaving, and I quote, ‘this shithole’,” he says while air-quoting with his fingers. “It’s going to be nice sharing this with someone that… means something to me.” He almost says ‘that he loves’, but he catches himself right before he says it.

Hannibal gives him a small smile, his eyes alight as they glance up briefly. Will has a sneaking suspicion that Hannibal knows what he almost said, but thankfully he doesn’t say anything.

Cleaning up is easy with the two of them working, and they stick the dogs outside for a bit while Will gathers up the things they’d need from his spare room. He has two rods and two pairs of waders, but only one vest. He figures that’s fine, if Hannibal needs to cut his line or something, Will could come over and help him out. He’s got his small tackle box and his cooler that he fills with ice before they head out.

It’s not as cold in the sun, but Will knows that once they’re in the water, waders or not, it’ll feel cold. Each of them is dressed warmly in slacks and warm sweaters, but Hannibal’s shoes aren’t… ideal for fishing outside in the winter. No matter how warm the sun might feel.

Hannibal is silent as they walk through the dry grass, his face tipped up towards the sun appreciatively. “It’s beautiful out here, Will,” he says softly, and Will grins as he looks over at him.

His dark hair doesn’t look so dark in the bright sunshine. It catches all the different colors, bringing out the golden honey tones that aren’t as obvious usually. His eyes are brighter, too. Molten amber catching the sunlight and emphasizing their clarity. He’s beautiful, and for a brief moment Will is awestruck by it.

He swallows as they head across the narrow strip of rocks that line the stream, each taking care not to twist an ankle before they’re standing at the edge of Wolf Trap Creek.

“Beautiful,” Hannibal repeats again, and it is. Old oaks and birch trees line the edges of the stream that winds and bends through the terrain. The gentle bubbling of clean water over stones is the most soothing sound Will can think of in the world. There are little shrubs dotted along the edge, the water creeping right into them in some spots. Aside from the few trees that line the stream, it’s generally wide open for miles around him before the woods creep further back against his property. The smell of pine and clean water is like a drug to Will, and judging by the look on Hannibal’s face, he’s not alone in that sentiment.

“Did you go to Wolf Trap Creek before you bought this house? It is the same stream?”

“Yeah,” Will says, pointing east. “There’s a public fishing spot about six miles up that way. I don’t have to share this with strangers anymore.”

“Just with those who mean something to you,” Hannibal notes with a small smile. 

Will blushes as he turns away, nodding his head as he tugs on a pair of waders. “These should fit you just fine, I think.”

They do. Will can’t quite keep his eyes off of Hannibal. The sight of such a regal, refined, elegant man stuffed into an old pair of rubber waders is one that Will doesn’t think he’s ever going to forget. His expensive coat and sweater are tucked into the old rubber, and he somehow manages to wear them with all the dignity of a three-piece suit. 

He’s a little rusty at casting, but Will watches him from the corner of his eye, and he eases back into it eventually. He’s quite good at it after a while. The graceful sway of his hips as he casts, the way his hair catches the breeze, the way the sunlight streams over his face. He’s the rarest kind of beautiful, and Will watches him more than his eyes are on his own line.

So it’s no surprise that Hannibal catches the most fish, and the proud little arch of his back with each catch is frankly adorable.

They only need two, so after a few hours, Will selects the largest of the haul and then lets the smaller ones go. Hannibal watches him, rubbing his hands together to get the blood flowing in them again. “This was a very peaceful afternoon.”

“It’s like a weight off your chest, isn’t it?” Will says with a smile as he packs up their things. “It feels like a sedative to me.”

Hannibal gathers their waders under his arm, the tackle box, and the cooler, leaving Will with nothing to carry back to the house. He holds his hand out for Hannibal to give him something, and his fucking perfect man shifts everything to one arm before lacing his fingers with Will’s own.

Will bites his lip as he takes his offered hand, each holding onto one another as they meander over the rocks, heading back to the house. “I meant for you to give me something to carry,” Will says softly, a blush staining his cheeks.

“I prefer this,” Hannibal says with a flirtatious smile. “It’s no trouble.”

Their fingers stay linked all the way back to the house, and Will wonders what the hell he’s done to deserve someone so wonderful. 

Once back at the house, Will lets his dogs out again before setting to the task of cleaning their fish for dinner. Hannibal takes the fishing gear back up to the spare room while Will guts and scales their trout.

Hannibal finds him in the kitchen after he’s done putting away their things, and he wraps his arms around Will’s waist as he works. “Can I offer my assistance?”

Will smiles as he places the cleaned fish in a dish to rinse them, shaking his head. “I’ve got this managed, darlin’,” he replies, and Hannibal presses a kiss to the nape of his neck. 

“I’m very much not used to standing around while someone else cooks for me,” he chuckles, and Will leans into him as they sway gently. Will makes sure to keep his hands on the counter, as they’re covered in fish guts.

“You’ll survive this one time I think,” Will chuckles. “Now shoo. I’m covered in guts and all I want to do right now is maul you.”

He hums and lets Will go, moving to stand on the opposite side of the counter to watch as he works. 

The fish are simple to prepare. Olive oil inside and out. Salt and pepper. Orange slices and rosemary sprigs inside the cavity. 

From there it’s as simple as getting them in a hot oven, so Will gets it preheating while he cleans his counters and his hands. “I know it’s not pretty,” he says while soaping his counters. “It’s a good recipe, though.”

“You’ve done nothing different than what I would have done,” Hannibal replies. “Fresh fish like that should be the highlight of the meal. An acid such as lemon or orange juice, and then a savory flavor such as rosemary or thyme. Perfect, Will.”

“You’d have made it artwork, though,” Will says with a chuckle. “I can imagine the presentation.”

“Will?” 

“Yeah?”

“Stop fretting about it,” Hannibal chuckles. “It’s going to be delicious.”

Will rolls his eyes as he gets the carton of Brussel sprouts out of the refrigerator. He halves them and coats them in olive oil, then salt and peppers them with a little cayenne pepper, too. He gets them in the oven quickly, as he loves them to be a little oven fried and crispy.

“Should I make rice, too?” Will wonders. Hannibal doesn’t always make a starch with their dinner, but Will grew up with mostly starches on his plate. 

“I think a whole fish each and those sprouts with be just enough,” Hannibal replies. “I’ll set the table?”

“If you want to get silverware on the table that would be great,” Will tells him while washing the cutting board and knife he used to split the Brussel sprouts. “I’ll plate in here.”

“Who taught you to make this?” Hannibal asks while rummaging through his silverware drawer. 

“My dad,” Will replies. “We ate a lot of fish when I was growing up. It was free, and we didn’t always have money for groceries. I don’t think I had a steak until I was a teenager.”

“It’s difficult to get out of that mindset,” Hannibal says softly. “Once I came into my inheritance, I used to make rice and pasta all the time. It took me a long while to realize I could eat whatever I wanted, now.”

“Nothing wrong with a good pasta,” Will says with a chuckle. “I love a good shrimp scampi.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“So, is it really clingy of me to tell you that I don’t want you to leave tonight?” Will asks with a blush on his cheeks. 

“Perhaps,” Hannibal says with a slow smile as he comes back around the counter to tug Will into his arms. His hugs used to be a little awkward; somewhat similar to hugging a bag of coat hangers, but they’ve gotten better. Soft arms and warm breath on his neck. “I don’t particularly want to leave, either.”

“Can you stay?” Will asks while tucking his face into his throat. He smells incredible, so Will inhales softly against his skin, making Hannibal shiver.

“I wish that I could,” he says regretfully. “My first appointment is at eight tomorrow, and I have to get my notes on the couple from my home, first.”

“Are they a mess?” Will asks with a laugh.

Hannibal chuckles while running his hand between Will’s shoulder blades. “I’m afraid the truth of it is much worse than that. They’re relatively new to my therapy, and I can’t recall a single thing of their problems. They’re terribly boring.”

“Horrible,” Will laughs. “You’re supposed to be interested in them.”

“You must think the worst of me,” Hannibal says with a chuckle, pressing a kiss to his throat. “I can’t even recall what the husband does for a living at this moment. They’re just… banal. I’m interested in helping them, of course. Their marriage is… dull. Their personalities are dull. It’s a long hour for me.”

“Better or worse than cheese folk and kneecaps?” Will asks.

The startled laugh rumbles through Will’s chest, and Hannibal pulls away with sparkling eyes that are full of mischief. “Better. Anything is better. Would you like to come to dinner Tuesday night? I have a late appointment tomorrow, but Tuesday I am free.”

Will nods eagerly at that. “I would love that, actually.”

Hannibal presses a kiss to his throat one more time before letting him go. He gets wine glasses out as well as a bottle of white wine from the night before. He pours them each a glass while Will plates their dinner.

Will breathes a sigh of relief as they sit down to eat. His fish is cooked perfectly, and Hannibal seems to agree with that as he hums his approval after his first bite. “Delicious. Thank you, Will.”

“Cooking for you is a little nerve-wracking,” Will admits with a laugh.

Hannibal swallows his bite of food before sipping his wine with a contemplative expression on his face. “I hope you’re kidding.”

“I’m not,” Will replies honestly. “Your meals are on par with five-star restaurants. How many of your friends invite you to their house for dinner?”

Hannibal takes another bite as he considers that. “None.”

“You know why? Because they’re terrified to give you shitty food,” Will laughs. 

Hannibal chuckles at that, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ve never considered why that is. I suppose it makes sense, although I’m truly not as picky about my food as people seem to believe. This is absolutely wonderful.”

“Aside from pancakes and eggs, it’s all I can make really,” Will grins.

“You’ve yet to make me pancakes,” Hannibal admonishes him. 

Will chuckles around a mouthful of fish. “They’re cornbread pancakes. Henri’s wife gave me the recipe, and they’re damn good. I’ll make’em for you sometime.”

Hannibal glances up at him at that, smiling gently. “Opening night of Faust is in two weeks at the Baltimore Opera House. I was going to ask if you’d join me.”

Will swallows his food thickly, taking a quick gulp of wine to keep from choking. “Sure.”

Hannibal looks surprised by that, and he licks his plump bottom lip as he weighs his words. “Next weekend it would be prudent if you could come with me to my tailor. A tux is mandatory, and because I’m asking you to come with me, I am offering to pay for the suit, of course.”

“Oh, I’m good with that,” Will replies easily, and Hannibal looks like he wants to have a stroke. 

His face reddens as he glances down at his plate, clearing his throat. “You’re a beautiful man, Will, but… the suits you own currently will not be adequate.”

“I’ve got a suit,” Will says casually, and Will almost considers telling him about his tux he’s having made at the look of sheer apprehension on Hannibal’s face. “Don’t you worry about me.”

Hannibal sips his wine as he frets, turning to Will with an apologetic expression. “People will be taking our photo, Will. You’ll be in the paper. You’ll be online. I want you to look as perfectly exquisite as you are.”

“Are you saying I’m a frump?” Will asks with a laugh while Hannibal shakes his head. “Hannibal, really. I seriously have a suit. I don’t need to go for a… fitting or whatever.”

The look on Hannibal’s face is mutinous, and Will wonders if he’s going to take Will’s measurements in his sleep and have a suit made for him regardless. He wouldn’t put it past him.

“I’m afraid I must insist,” Hannibal says eventually, and Will scowls at him.

“No, I’m afraid I must insist,” Will replies tartly. “I am not going to your tailor. End of story.”

Despite looking like he’s about to burst a vein, Hannibal does let the matter drop. Will is certain it’ll come up again, though. 

After dinner, Hannibal tries to help Will with the dishes, but Will shoos him out. “You cook and clean up for me every time we eat,” Will laughs. 

It doesn’t take long to clean up, and once he’s done, he joins Hannibal on the couch, plopping himself unceremoniously in his lap. Hannibal chuckles as he tugs him close, parting his mouth with lips and tongue for a toe-curling kiss. “It’s getting late, and I should be heading home,” he says while licking his way down Will’s throat.

“What is it with you and my neck?” Will laughs while easing his thighs over Hannibal’s, straddling his waist. “You’ve got a fixation, Doctor Lecter.”

Hannibal hums, his mouth sucking against his Adam’s apple while his hands grip Will’s ass to tug him closer. “I have an appreciation for beautiful things,” he says while nuzzling his jaw. “Your throat is exquisite.”

“Just my throat?” Will asks coyly, and Hannibal bites his collarbone gently, easing the sting of it with his tongue. 

“Not just your throat,” he sighs. “Your jawline, your mouth, your eyes. The whole package, really. Especially these curls.”

His hand leaves Will’s ass to come up and lace through them for emphasis, and Will groans as he grinds down against him. “Hannibal?”

“Yes, beloved?”

“Please?” he begs while writhing on him. 

“Are you still sore from last night?” Hannibal asks hesitantly, pulling away from his throat to look up at his face.

Will shakes his head, “I can still… feel you. It’s not painful.”

“We should move to your bedroom then,” Hannibal says while scenting him along his jawline.

“No,” Will replies breathlessly. He points to the drawer of the oak end table to the side of the couch. “Lube’s in there.”

Hannibal looks startled by that, a wicked little grin on his lips. “Tell me we didn’t host a dinner party with a bottle of lubricant by the couch.”

Will purses his lips. “Yeah, and? If they go through my drawer and see it, I’m not exactly embarrassed. Anyone with eyes would understand that I can’t keep my hands off you. A little piece of me hopes someone snooped. You’re mine. I want everyone to know it.”

“Possessive creature,” Hannibal chuckles while reaching for the little drawer to tug it open. He takes out the small tube, twirling it in his fingers. “There might not be room here for you to be comfortable.”

“I want you just like this,” Will replies breathily, arching his back while grinding down against him. “Right like this.”

Will stands from his lap, shucking his sweater over his head while watching Hannibal closely. He takes his time unbuttoning his slacks, toeing off his shoes. Hannibal swallows visibly, and Will feels a little thrill at how interested his beautiful man is. His eyes don’t seem to know where to settle; Will’s face, his chest, his erection that’s proudly tenting his boxers. Will eases his legs out of his slacks, cupping himself through his boxers and Hannibal groans. “Are you getting naked or am I giving you a show?”

“Both?” Hannibal asks with a grin. He tugs his own sweater over his head while Will gently pulls his boxers down his legs, and Hannibal watches him while Will strokes his own cock. “Will,” he pleads.

“You said both,” Will replies while fisting his cock. His face is flushed, he knows. He might feel brave because Hannibal gives him no reason to be shy, but it doesn’t change that he’s generally a timid man. This is significantly more forward than he’s ever been in his life. Standing in front of Hannibal with late afternoon sunlight streaming through his living room windows while jerking himself off is not his usual motus operandi. Not in any sense of the word.

Hannibal peels himself out of his slacks and underwear, tugging them down his legs without looking away from what Will is doing. He licks his lips absently, and Will moans as he watches that pink tongue swipe across his top lip. 

The moment the material is off Hannibal’s legs, Will settles himself back down on his lap, straddling his waist. “Beautiful man,” Hannibal says softly, while his hands skim down Will’s ribs towards his hips. Hannibal takes the bottle of lube, holding it between them while biting his bottom lip. “Doing this again so soon might be uncomfortable.”

“I’m uncomfortable with you not being inside me right now,” Will replies hotly, gripping the both of their erections in his palm. “Hannibal, please. You’re not going to hurt me. I don’t think you could. Could you?”

“I’m certain that I could,” Hannibal replies, and his face is suspiciously devoid of emotion. “I never want to, though.”

The carefully erected mask he’s wearing infuriates Will. He leans forward and grips his face, tipping it upwards so they have to maintain eye contact. “What is it, Hannibal? What is it that’s so bad that you think I’d leave you?”

“In time,” Hannibal says softly, swallowing thickly as he allows his emotions to play across his face. Devotion, hope, and God help him, love. “You’re a clever boy. I have faith in you.”

Will hates the response more than he cares to admit, but he’s willing to drop it for now. He jerks them gently in his palm as he leans in to press a kiss to those reddened lips. “Get me ready for you.”

He feels a sigh against his throat, then the cap of the lube open and close before his arm comes around his waist, long fingers slipping between his cheeks. His fingers are ridiculously gentle as he eases him open, but Hannibal wasn’t wrong. It’s a little uncomfortable. He’s still somewhat sore from last night, but it’s far from painful. Hardly enough to tell him to stop.

It’s a conscious effort to keep any discomfort from his face, as he knows that his cautious partner will stop if he sees even the slightest hint that he’s sore. By the time Hannibal is stretching him with two fingers, Will is writhing on him, trying to get him to brush that spot inside that makes him see stars. Will lets their erections go in favor of getting closer, their chests pressed tight while Hannibal eases his fingers inside of him. His soft mouth is pressing kisses to his throat and his collarbones, his other hand gripping his ass so he’s pressed as tightly to him as he can be. 

His fingers mercifully brush that spot inside, and Will moans against his cheek, brushing a kiss against his face in thanks. Hannibal takes his time opening Will up for him, and Will is feeling a little desperate by the time three fingers have been pressed inside. “I’m ready, Hannibal,” he gasps, rolling his hips in a little circle in an effort to take those long fingers deeper.

Hannibal’s eyes are dark as night as he looks at Will’s face. The sheer amount of devotion he feels from him is absolutely breathtaking. Will laces his fingers through his soft hair, a few errant strands falling loose against his forehead. He cups his palms against his strong jaw, tipping his face upwards for a kiss while his thumbs stroke along the sharp edge of his cheekbones. Hannibal kisses him so sweetly it knocks the breath from him, his tongue gently sliding against Will’s while his fingers spread him open.

He hears the cap of the lube again shortly after Hannibal slides his fingers out of his body, and then the wet head of his cock is resting against him. Will goes up on his knees a bit, taking him inside slowly, his hips rolling in small circles as he stretches around him. Will has to pull away from the kiss to gasp, as this position makes Hannibal feel like he’s deeper, somehow. He settles out against his thighs, his muscles trembling because it feels so fucking intense. 

Hannibal allows him to take his time adjusting to the intrusion, his mouth pressing damp kisses to his throat and his jaw as Will falls apart on him. “You feel so good,” Will tells him, his voice quivering with the raw emotions he’s feeling. “You are mine.”

“Yours,” Hannibal agrees. His large hands cup Will’s ass, spreading him open as he thrusts up with his hips. Will tremors over him, as every move he makes brushes against his prostate exquisitely. “Are you in pain?” Hannibal asks.

“No,” Will chuckles. “I am trying not to fall apart. I feel like I’ve waited my whole life for you, Hannibal,” he gasps. He rocks his hips experimentally, lifting himself a bit before easing back down. It feels like the sweetest torture. The pleasure of it so intense that Will feels the pulses of it rolling through his limbs. 

“Beloved,” he sighs, gripping Will’s ass and urging him down as he thrusts up. Will moans loud against his neck, bracing his hands against his strong shoulders as he lifts and drops himself on his cock. Their pace is unhurried, yet Will feels like he’s burning up. He feels hypersensitive and raw, each drag of his cock against that little bundle of nerves inside of him lances him with pleasure. 

Will drops down in his lap, grinding against him while Hannibal spreads his cheeks, thrusting impossibly deep inside Will’s body. His head lolls back while he grinds down, and Hannibal takes that as an invitation to suck on the column of his throat, his breath hot against Will’s ear. 

He grips the back of the couch for leverage as he lifts and drops himself with purpose, and Hannibal reaches between them, stroking Will’s cock in time with Will’s pace. The startled pleasure of it makes him gasp, sweat rolling down the small of his back as he rides Hannibal into the cushions. 

Their mouths clash together as their pace becomes more urgent, the pleasure mounting into something incendiary. “Hannibal,” Will cries out as he grinds on him, thriving on the closed circuit of pleasure they are giving one another. His orgasm comes as a shock, his knees locking up as he spills over his partner’s fingers and against his stomach. Hannibal grips his ass, thrusting up into his spent body in earnest before he finishes inside of Will.

The sharp moan as Hannibal pumps into him makes Will smile lazily as he drags his face up for a kiss. Hannibal lets go of the death grip he has on his ass, sliding his hands around Will’s waist to tug him against his body, holding him close. Their kiss is languid and deep, each tracing damp flesh with reverent fingers as they come back down to earth. 

Hannibal is still buried inside of him, and he thrusts up a few times, savoring the feeling of Will around him. Will gasps as his prostate is gently nudged again; the sharp, painful pleasure almost unbearable. His muscles tremble while Hannibal glides inside of him a few more times before he slips out. His beautiful man isn’t finished with his delicious torment though. Will whines as Hannibal eases his fingers just inside of him again, pumping his seed back in. 

Will kisses him softly while Hannibal explores his stretched entrance with curious fingers, holding him close with his other arm banded around his waist. He stops eventually when Will is absolutely shuddering on him, easing out with a soft chuckle against Will’s cheek. “Forgive me,” he says softly.

Will licks his swollen lips as he leans back, lacing his fingers through the damp hair at the nape of his neck. “What am I forgiving?”

“I never meant to make you uncomfortable,” Hannibal replies, gliding his fingers over Will’s entrance again.

Will bucks on him, startled by the touch. “Not uncomfortable,” he laughs. “Oversensitive. If you’re having a nice time, keep going.”

Hannibal arches an amused eyebrow with a mischievous twist of his lips before easing two fingers back inside of him, causing Will to gasp. “Exquisite,” Hannibal says while sliding his eyes across Will’s face. His fingers withdraw from Will’s body almost reluctantly, but neither are interested in moving away from one another just yet.

The late afternoon sunlight slants through the windows, casting them in a deep orange glow. Will wants to take this moment and keep it in his mind until his last breath. Everything about Hannibal in this light is golden and beautiful. His eyes are liquid amber, his hair tinged with honeyed gold, and his skin is almost ethereally bronzed. Will traces his face in awe of him, and Hannibal seems just as enraptured with Will, too.

“Of all the things I’ve witnessed, the places I’ve visited,” Hannibal says softly, tracing his own fingers against Will’s cheek. “Of all the people I’ve met… You are the most beautiful I’ve ever seen.”

Will blushes, glancing down at Hannibal’s chest to avoid eye contact for a moment. Hannibal’s fingers leave his cheek to trail upwards, his thumb brushing against his lashes that are splayed there. Will leans in and presses his lips softly to Hannibal’s own, each simply savoring the late afternoon cocoon of warmth and light before it passes.

The moment is over far more quickly than Will wants it to be, as Winston paws at the door to go outside. Will smiles ruefully while Hannibal sighs, each shifting regretfully to resume the rest of their night.

Will escapes to the bathroom to clean himself up a bit with a facecloth while Hannibal does the same in the upstairs bathroom. While Hannibal is upstairs, Will gets redressed quickly, opening the door for his dogs to go outside before he gets them their dinner. 

When his partner comes back downstairs, he’s dressed and cleaned up as best as he could manage with a facecloth. “If leaving you was hard before,” Hannibal says despondently while gathering his dirty clothes from the floor to stuff them in his shoulder bag. 

Will touches his elbow, drawing his attention. “What you said yesterday,” he says slowly. “That if we lived together you wouldn’t expect me to move. Did you mean that you’d live here?”

Hannibal’s eyebrow arches while he licks his kiss-swollen lips, staring down at Will in surprise. “When you’re ready for that, yes. That’s what I meant.”

“It’s… soon for that,” Will says hesitantly. “I don’t… It’s not that I don’t want to. I hate when you leave, and I want you here. I just… Jesus, I don’t know.”

“As I’ve said,” Hannibal says with a huff of laughter as he leans in for a brief kiss. “When you’re ready. We’ve all the time in the world.”

Will lets out a long breath, nodding his head as he avoids eye contact. “Okay. We… we wait.”

“We wait,” Hannibal echoes, his eyes alight with warmth. “For now, I’ll see you Tuesday night.”

Will follows him out to the porch to watch him leave, and he’ll be damned if Hannibal doesn’t take a little piece of him with him as he goes.


	22. Chapter 22

His Monday morning lectures go by smoothly. When he heads to the breakroom for lunch, he smiles when he finds Bev and Jimmy at the table. “Hey,” he says in greeting. “You didn’t eat yet, did you?” he asks Bev.

“I had a yogurt and cheez-its, why?” she asks.

“Dr. Hotass packed a lunch for you, that’s why,” he teases with a laugh, placing a glass container of leftovers in front of her.

She glances up at Will with a shocked smile, touching the container in surprise. “You’re joking! Oh, wow. He’s something else.”

“So, she calls him Dr. Hotass to his face, and he sends her _lunch_?” Jimmy asks indignantly. “Life isn’t fair.”

Bev takes the container to the microwave to warm it up, and she grins as she turns to Will. “Tell him I said thank you, and do _not_ call him Dr. Hotass when you do. I had such a nice time, by the way. Your man can cook.”

“Like I said, I’ve taken up jogging because all I do is overeat,” Will laughs. He puts his own leftovers in the microwave once hers are warmed up as he turns to Jimmy. “I uh, I wanted to talk to you.”

“What did I do?” Jimmy asks with a bland expression.

“Nothing,” Will grins while taking his lunch out from the microwave to join them at the table. Beverly is already tucking into her stew, moaning with each bite. “You know flowers. I want to ask your advice on an arrangement.”

Beverly chokes on her food, covering her mouth with a napkin. “I am _so_ fucking glad I came in today.”

“What did you want to say with the arrangement?” Jimmy asks with a knowing smirk. 

Will blushes to his hairline, stirring his stew hesitantly. “That… that I love him. That it’s not… a passing thing. I want the arrangement to have blue flowers if that’s possible.”

Jimmy looks about ready to swoon while Bev makes a noise in her throat that Will chooses to ignore. Jimmy reaches into his pocket for a pack of post-it notes and a pen, turning back to Will with a knowing smile. “So, you’ll want forget-me-not’s,” he says while writing on the post-it. “They’re blue, and they imply true love. They also imply that the sender hopes they will not be forgotten by the person receiving them.”

Will nods at that, growing comfortable enough to eat his lunch while Jimmy writes. “White Dittany is a pretty flower, and it implies love and passion. Oh! Blue Ranunclus! They are gorgeous, and they imply the receiver is radiantly charming and attractive, which… well, he is. You could finish it off with baby’s breath. It’s universally accepted to mean long lasting love, which is why it’s used in wedding arrangements.”

“Jesus,” Will sighs. “This is… perfect. Except what flower shop has these flowers ready to go?”

Jimmy smiles at him. “Probably the same place Dr. Lecter had your arrangements made. Hybotanies. The owner is fluent in flower language. He’s also a dreamboat.”

Will rolls his eyes as he takes the post-it, pressing it into his coat pocket. “Thank you for this. I owe you one.”

“We’ve got a body upstairs,” Bev says hesitantly. “Don’t know if you want to come up and take a look.”

“Was it the Ripper?” Will asks, and Bev shakes her head.

“No,” she replies. “The intestines were missing, but the cuts were sloppy. The goal was just to get the intestines, no displaying, nothing else about it hints at the Ripper. We found traces of potassium hydroxide in the body cavity.”

“That’s… unusual,” Will replies. “I… I have to check with Jack, first. I haven’t been cleared for field work by Dr. Bloom yet.”

Bev twists her mouth in regret. “He won’t let you anywhere near it, then. No harm in asking, though.”

After lunch he heads to Jack’s office, knocking on the door hesitantly. Jack calls him in, gesturing for Will to wait a minute, as he’s on the phone. Once he hangs up, he turns to Will with a little smile. “What can I do for you?”

“Bev told me there’s a body in the lab, and I was wondering if you wanted my help on the case.”

Jack sighs, leaning back in his seat. “Of course, I want your help. Dr. Bloom hasn’t cleared you, though. No field work until she does.”

Will sucks his teeth as he shifts his feet. “Is it out of the question to ask for the Ripper’s case files? I wanted to start looking at them, see if I can get anything from his earlier scenes that I’ve never looked at.”

Jack hesitates at that, scratching idly at his chin. “I think for now you should focus on your students and take Dr. Bloom’s advice. Without clearance, you’re a liability. You can look at whatever you want once she clears you. I know that’s not what you want to hear, because it’s not what I want to tell you, either. It’s policy, though. Without her signature, my hands are tied, Will.”

Will groans at that, tugging his hand through his hair. “The Ripper is going to kill again, Jack. What if I could stop him? What if I could take a look through his file and see something that’s been missed? I could save someone.”

“Will,” Jack sighs. “For your own mental health, you don’t help with cases until you’re cleared by our therapist. This isn’t up for negotiation. I’m sorry, but… maybe after your appointment with her on Wednesday she’ll clear you. Until she does, you are a professor only. Got it?”

Will licks his lips as he shifts his feet, glancing down at his shoes awkwardly. “Got it.”

“I appreciate your dedication, for what it’s worth.”

Will nods, leaving Jack’s office feeling somewhat like a chastised child. He understands why he shouldn’t go upstairs to see the body, but he genuinely doesn’t get why he can’t look through the Ripper’s file. If he would have thought to ask for it a week ago, he’d have it already, and what difference would it have made, really? 

His afternoon lecture thankfully goes by quickly, and with nothing else to do, he’s free to head home. He Googles where Hybotanies is, noting it’s barely two miles from where Hannibal’s office is. He heads there, seeing as how it’s still early.

It’s a gorgeous flower shop, and Will asks for an arrangement with the flowers that Jimmy suggested. The owner smiles at Will, nodding his head. “This will be beautiful. Would you like to write a note for it?”

Will bites his lip at that, nodding hesitantly. The owner gives him a plain, cream-colored card, and Will has no idea what he wants to say. He wants it to be meaningful, but not… overt. For whatever reason, a quote from Dante’s Inferno comes to mind, and he goes with it.

“ _Do not be afraid; our fate  
Cannot be taken from us; it is a gift._”

He stares at his chicken scratch, tapping the pen against the desk nervously before tucking the little card into the envelope and handing it off. 

“Would you like the arrangement delivered?”

Will nods and gives him the address for Hannibal’s office, asking for it to be delivered for ten the next morning. It’s an expensive arrangement because the flowers are a bit on the rarer side, but Will doesn’t mind that. He’s much more nervous about sending something so… honest. Something that Hannibal will clearly understand.

He goes for a long jog when he gets home, and his muscles are getting used to the activity enough that it doesn’t hurt him to do it anymore. When he gets back to his house, he takes a long shower, soothing the muscles in his legs that are a little stiff and sore. He feeds himself and his dogs before grading papers at his dining room table. The solitary slice of peach pie calls to him from the counter, so he heats it up in the microwave and eats it with the leftover vanilla bourbon ice cream that Hannibal made.

He’s lying in bed at nine-thirty, tossing and turning when his phone chimes from the end table. He reaches for it absently, smiling when he sees who the text is from. 

‘Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow. Today felt very long without your presence.’

Will smiles at the text, touching the screen absently before responding. ‘I was just thinking about you, too. My bed smells like you.’

‘It seems very unfair that I have nothing to placate me until I see you.’ Is the immediate response.

Will bites his lip as he glances down at himself, blushing as he considers what he’s about to do. He angles the phone up, tilting the camera down at himself as he lays in the sheets. He takes the picture before he chickens out, looking at it with a critical eye. It’s just his face and bare chest, the pale column of his arm that’s holding the phone. It’s frankly terrible, but he sends it anyway.

‘Not one for selfies, but here you go.’ He types while blushing to his hairline.

‘Beautiful. However, you’ve only made my ache for you more profound.’

Will chuckles at that, shifting against the sheets. ‘I had the leftover peach pie tonight. You’re perfect. Thank you for making it.’

‘Anything for you, beloved. Come to my house as soon as you leave work tomorrow. I’ll be home by four.’

‘See you tomorrow, darling,’ he types. ‘Good night.’

‘Sleep well, Will.’

Will sets his phone on the nightstand, rolling to Hannibal’s side of the bed where it smells more strongly of his cologne. The familiar scent pulls him into a mostly restful sleep.

Tuesday goes by without much fanfare, each lecture going smoothly. His students are catching on to his teaching style now, and they seem eager to actively participate in his lectures. Their papers are getting better, save for a few that might not be cut out to be agents. 

He’s able to leave just after four, and he’s a sweating, nervous, wreck as he heads to Hannibal’s house. The arrangement should have been delivered, and he’s not heard a damned thing from Hannibal all day.

What if it was too much? What if… Jimmy misread the fucking arrangement at his house?

“Oh, God,” he sighs as he pulls up to Hannibal’s house.

He uses his key to come into the house, and he’s barely three steps inside before he’s being pressed against the door, Hannibal kissing him deeply while tugging him against his body. Will gasps in surprise at being mauled the moment he comes in, but he gets his bearings once he realizes that Hannibal is very fucking happy to see him.

Will pulls away from his mouth with a laugh while Hannibal nips down the column of his neck. “I received flowers today,” he says absently. 

“Did you?” Will asks with a chuckle as Hannibal tilts his jaw up, crushing him in another toe-curling kiss. 

“With a quote on the card from my favorite novel. How did you know?”

“I didn’t,” Will replies with a grin. “It was just all I could think of in that moment.”

“The arrangement is… beautiful,” Hannibal says hesitantly, each of them dancing around the fact that they both know what they were each trying to say without words. “A very rare arrangement indeed.”

“I’m glad you loved them,” Will says softly, and Hannibal’s eyes glitter at him.

“I loved them more than I can say,” Hannibal replies, his tone just as reverent as Will’s own.

Will steps away from the door to wrap him in his arms, and Hannibal hugs him back just as sweetly. His hugs have come a long, long way, Will muses.

Hannibal lets him go grudgingly, pointing towards the kitchen. “I have something cooking, forgive me.”

“It’s fine,” Will assures him.

His arrangement is on the counter, and Will smiles when he sees that it’s truly gorgeous. The blue and white of the flowers is exactly what Will wanted, and he’s so pleased that such a random assortment of flowers looks so perfect. 

He’s never been this guy. He’s never bought anyone flowers. It’s not that he’s a jerk, it’s just not something he’s ever thought of doing. 

He realizes somewhat wryly that it might be why his relationships fizzle out the way they do. He’d never let that happen with Hannibal. If flowers and cards are what it takes to show him that he cares for him, Will would send him something every damned day.

The little bounce in Hannibal’s step, coupled with the brightness of his eyes and the warmth of his smile make it all completely worth it.

“It smells good,” Will says shyly as he watches Hannibal sauté vegetables. 

“Fusilli verde,” Hannibal replies proudly. “You said you aren’t opposed to pasta dishes, so I thought it would be a nice change of pace. Fusilli pasta tossed with seasonal vegetables and pancetta, tossed with black truffle crema.”

“Jesus,” Will says with a chuckle. “When I said I’m not opposed to pasta, I meant… meatballs and spaghetti. You didn’t have to go all out.”

“I assure you, the hardest part is sauteing the vegetables,” he replies with a grin. “Hardly any work at all. How has work been?”

Will shrugs at that, watching him cook their dinner absently. “I can’t work on any cases until Alana says that I can,” he says irritably. “Not even case files.”

“Jack used to allow more leeway in situations like this,” Hannibal replies while tossing a pan over the stove. “He lost a student a few years ago. She was not cleared for field work, and she disappeared. He is far more cautious now. It’s not a slight against you, Will.”

“I know,” Will concedes. “I just don’t like being treated like I’m fragile. I know I killed someone, but… I’m not haunted by it.” Not in the way he means, anyway. He still thinks about… what it was like. He doesn’t feel guilty, though. “How was work for you?”

“Yesterday was very long,” Hannibal sighs. “I had my eight am, but I have new clients that require night appointments due to work. So I was at the office until eight last night. I didn’t have back to back appointments, but it still felt tedious. Today was much better. I’ve never received flowers from anyone, it was quite a surprise.”

Will smiles at that, going to the counter to open the bottle of wine that Hannibal picked out for tonight. “I have my second appointment with Alana tomorrow morning. I’m hoping that I say the right things to get cleared.”

The smell of bacon permeates the kitchen when Hannibal adds pancetta to the pan, frying it with the vegetables. His face twitches with something before he looks up at Will. “I think the idea in therapy is not to find the right thing to say, but to say what you feel, Will. If Alana feels that you’re being indirect with her, she will not clear you.”

“What am I supposed to say, Hannibal?” Will asks tartly while pouring each of them a glass of wine. “That I liked killing him? That I felt righteous because he deserved worse than what I gave him? That I think about the way his blood seeped into the carpet every day? I think it would be worse than if I censor myself.”

Hannibal’s face is suspiciously blank again, but his lips are quirked in his signature not-smile. “I think you should tell her that you did exactly what you had to do in that situation. Do not lie to her and tell her you feel regret. Tell her that the reason why you don’t feel it is because you are so grateful to be breathing that you can’t find it in you to feel remorse.”

“Coaching me on how to pass a psych eval?” Will asks with a laugh. “Dr. Lecter, that’s very unprofessional.”

“Since day one with you, ethical limitations have not swayed me. I fail to see why they should now,” Hannibal replies dryly. “Has there been another murder?”

Will nods. “Intestines removed from a man, but not the Ripper. Traces of potassium hydroxide in the body cavity. I never got to see the victim, but Beverly was telling me.”

“Potassium hydroxide?” Hannibal says with a twist of his mouth. “Lye. Perhaps he was trying to dissolve the body?”

Will shakes his head. “Only traces of it, hardly enough to dissolve someone. I want to see the file, but of course, I can’t. I also wanted to get the full file on the Ripper out so I could see some of his earlier work that I’ve never gotten to see, but I can’t even do that. Stalemate.”

“What is it that you think you’ll glean from seeing his earlier cases?” Hannibal wonders. “They are all without evidence, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” Will replies after a sip of his wine. “I don’t know what I might find. I just want the opportunity to look. He hasn’t killed in a while, at least a while for him, anyway. Maybe he’s on vacation.”

Hannibal keeps himself busy with making dinner without making any comment, and Will gets busy with finishing his glass of wine in record time. “Beverly said to say thank you for lunch. You really made her day.”

Hannibal glances up at Will with a smile. “I’m pleased to hear it.”

“I know they’re not your usual crowd, but… thank you for making room for them. They are good people.”

“Anything for you, Will. Besides that, it really was quite pleasant to host a dinner party without the pretense. Good people enjoying good food is why I enjoy cooking in the first place. I’ve somehow forgotten that. People who come to my dinner parties, they praise the food, but nothing is quite as rewarding as that little hum of pleasure that you and Beverly make while you eat.”

“If people aren’t moaning while eating your food, throw them out,” Will laughs. “They’re dicks.”

A startled laugh escapes Hannibal’s mouth, the sound rich and vibrant to Will’s ears. He so rarely laughs like that, and every time he manages to make it happen feels a little bit like a victory. Hannibal plates their dinner beautifully, handing off pretense by giving Will his own plate to carry to the dining room.

Dinner is absolutely delicious. The crema tastes like earthy mushrooms and bacon, and every bite of pasta is full of spinach and mushrooms. It’s completely unlike anything Will has ever had, and he moans throughout the entirety of it, earning himself another chuckle from his partner.

“God that was good,” Will sighs, patting his stomach. “Thank you so much.”

Hannibal watches him pat his flat stomach, taking another delicate bite of his dinner. “Are you still jogging?”

“I am,” Will laughs. “Might have to go tonight, too.”

“I think we can find a creative way of finding some exercise, don’t you agree?” Hannibal asks with a quirk of his lips.

Will hums while a blush creeps up his face. “Oh, I think so.”

“Has it helped with the nightmares?”

“It has,” Will says with a shrug. “I still wake up sweaty, but at least I’m in my bed and not running through a field.”

Hannibal finishes his plate, dabbing his lips with a napkin politely. “A small victory, then.”

“What’s the rest of this week look like for you?” Will asks shyly.

Hannibal reaches out to stroke his fingers against Will’s cheek, smiling softly. “I have time Friday night, and my weekend is mostly free. I have a convention on Monday morning in New York on ethics in professional practice. It was suggested to me after the complaint Molly raised. I leave Sunday, but I’ll be back Monday night.”

A flare of guilt goes through Will’s gut at that, and he bites his lip. “I’m-”

“Do not even finish that thought,” Hannibal says sternly. “It’s fine. I must attend a certain amount of them through the year to maintain accreditation. It’s not a burden, Will.”

“Spend Friday night with me,” Will says softly. “I can come here if that makes it easier for you. I’d just have to drop off my dogs before work.”

“That would be fine, Will. I leave at two on Friday. They won’t be here alone for very long.”

Will smiles at that. “That’s good because I have a few errands to run after work on Friday. I’ll come here straight after, though.”

“If you don’t mind helping me clean up, we can have a drink in the study before you leave me,” Hannibal says softly.

“Of course, I don’t mind,” Will grins.

Clean up takes only a few minutes, as none of the dishes need to be handwashed. Will loads the dishwasher while Hannibal cleans the counters and stove, each finishing within moments of one another.

They head into the study, and Will takes a greedy inhale of the room. He wasn’t kidding when he said this is his favorite room in the house. The smells of rich leather, old books, and wooden bookcases is mixed with the clean scent of Hannibal’s spicy cologne. The entire room just feels like Hannibal. Every inch of it is refined elegance and tasteful décor. 

The rest of his house feels like a show, in a way. It peacocks Hannibal’s personality in an ostentatious way. Will has no delusions that it isn’t done on purpose, to show off to his upper crust friends when they come over. This room and his bedroom are the only two that Will feels are truly Hannibal. 

Will hasn’t been to any of his larger dinner parties yet, but he’s relatively certain that the pocket doors to this room would stay closed throughout the dinner. This was his space. The one place where he can unwind without the charade of pretension. 

Hannibal undoes the tie at his throat, tugging it over his head. He walks over to his desk, shucking out of his waist coat, then rolling the sleeves of his button down up his lean arms. Will watches him peel the layers of his suit off, and each layer of his impenetrable mask comes off with it, leaving behind his partner. The one he’s grown to love.

Hannibal sighs, rolling his neck as he pours them each a glass of brandy before joining Will on the couch. He hands off Will’s glass, then stretches himself comfortably along the other end of the couch, toeing off his shoes. “Has anyone ever seen you like this?” Will wonders.

Hannibal sips his brandy, looking up at Will with an expression so unguarded it takes his breath from his lungs. “Like what?”

“Relaxed,” Will says softly, reaching out to stroke his calf that’s resting on the middle cushion of the couch. “Unguarded.”

Hannibal’s face clouds with something, as though he’s just realized he’s had his guard down for the last ten minutes or so before he shakes his head. “No. I find no reason for posturing with you.”

Will smiles softly, setting his drink down on the end table. “Come here, please. Face away from me.”

Hannibal sets his own glass down, shifting on the cushions so his back is to Will. Will toes off his own shoes before sliding one leg around Hannibal’s hip, pulling himself closer so he can reach his shoulders. “What are you doing?” Hannibal asks with a low chuckle.

“You’re carrying a shitload of tension in your shoulders,” Will says with a laugh. He presses his thumbs into the meat of his shoulder blades, and Hannibal groans. “When I’m stressed, I carry it in the same spot. I usually roll mine out with a tennis ball against the wall, but you have me, so.”

“That feels exquisite,” Hannibal sighs. His mouth seems to move slower as he relaxes, his accent growing more prominent. “You can feel that I’m anxious?”

“Not really,” Will says while working the knots out of his strong shoulders. “You’re relaxed in front of me, but your body language shows tension. What’s bothering you?”

“I really shouldn’t talk about it with you,” Hannibal says slowly. “It’s Franklyn and Tobias.”

Will keeps working his fingers into his skin, waiting for him to elaborate or not. A few moments go by before Hannibal continues. “I suggested that they go to another therapist that I secured for them. They… did not take it well. I expected some resistance from Franklyn, but not from Tobias. If they will not take the referral, ethically I should continue to see them. I no longer want to, though.”

“Have you explained how improper it is that they keep searching you out?” Will asks.

Hannibal groans as Will presses a knot squarely with his thumb, working it out gently with determined fingers. “I have,” he says eventually. “They insist it’s coincidence. They’ve made it sound like I am the one creating the delusion. If they were to raise a complaint, it would be two against me in as many months. I have to keep seeing them, and it’s… maddening.”

Will wants to apologize, but he knows it won’t be welcomed. Instead, he eases his arms around Hannibal’s torso and tugs him against his chest, hugging him from behind. Hannibal tenses for a moment before relaxing in his arms, resting his full weight against Will’s chest.

“You’ve got a big ole soaker tub upstairs,” Will says softly against the shell of his ear. “I think it would do us both a world of good to get in there together. What do you think?”

“I think that might be the best idea you’ve had yet,” he replies with a low chuckle. 

They climb from the couch to head upstairs, and Will gets the water running while Hannibal rummages for scented oil to add to the water. Hannibal settles on lavender and honeysuckle, and the room fills with the calming scent as the bath fills and steams the room. Will undresses Hannibal slowly, peeling him out of his shirt and his slacks, pressing gentle kisses to his skin where he can reach.

He adds a dollop of bubble bath once the bath is almost full, creating suds before he turns the water off. Will watches him climb into the bath, smiling at the little sigh of pleasure that escapes his mouth as he settles into the water.

Will strips down quickly before sitting in the tub opposite Hannibal, tugging his feet into his lap under the water. It really does feel fucking good, and Will sighs as he relaxes against the back of the tub while working his fingers into the arch of Hannibal’s foot. “I could get used to this,” Hannibal chuckles. 

“I don’t have a soaker tub in my house,” Will says softly, smiling as Hannibal arches an eyebrow at him. “If you move in, we’d have to rectify that.”

“If I moved in, there would be a few things that require attention, yes,” Hannibal says with a grin. 

“The kitchen?” Will wonders while his fingers leave Hannibal’s foot to take the other one and give it the same treatment. 

Hannibal sighs as he works his thumbs into the arch of his foot, nodding his head. “The appliances I bought are good. I need more counter space, though.”

“What else?” Will asks softly.

“That third bedroom that has no specific use,” Hannibal says with his eyes closed. “I would have built-in bookcases installed to hold all of my books. That strange small room that shares a wall with your bedroom would be closed off and made into a walk-in closet in your bedroom. I have a lot of clothes, Will.”

“What else would you do to my house?” Will asks with a chuckle while his fingers work up his leg, working at the muscle of his calf.

“Nothing, really,” Hannibal replies. “My days of having fifty people over for dinner would be over, but I find myself appreciating the idea of that. It would be you and I, and a few closer friends. I’d like to build a sunporch off the back entrance, maybe. It would be a good place to put my herb garden, and it would be a lovely place to have my morning coffee.”

“A sunporch, huh?” Will replies with a tilt of his head. It hadn’t occurred to him to do something like that, but he can see the appeal of it. A four-season room that gets plenty of sunshine and over-looks the wide expanse of his endless backyard. He can picture himself out there in the mornings with Hannibal, sipping a coffee while the sun comes up. “I like the idea.”

“I’d paint the outside butter yellow,” Hannibal says with a little smile as Will tugs him closer, pulling his legs so they rest around his hips in the tub. Hannibal comes eagerly, tipping Will’s jaw upwards so he can glide his mouth along his jawbone. “Yellow and white rose bushes in the front. The backyard will have a vegetable garden in the summer.”

Will smiles at the thought of Hannibal in the backyard with a straw hat on, gardening gloves donned with a little spade in his hand. “This is feeling like little house on the prairie,” he laughs while Hannibal nuzzles his throat with his lips.

“It would be a quieter life for me,” Hannibal agrees with a huff of breath against his neck. He pulls away to press kisses to Will’s cheek, then his lips. “I find myself aching for it. You’d get a few more dogs, and I can imagine them running through the yard with you.”

“Uh-huh,” Will says dumbly while Hannibal reaches between them to grip their erections in his hand, stroking them lazily while he nibbles on Will’s collarbone. 

“The second bedroom would be yours. I’d give you everything you need to make all the lures you want.”

“I’d need a shed outside,” Will says softly, his breath hitched as Hannibal strokes them beneath the water. “Somewhere I can work on our sailboat.”

“Our sailboat?” Hannibal chuckles. “Can you sail?”

“Around the world if you wanted,” Will says with a lazy grin as he leans in to tug Hannibal’s bottom lip into his mouth, suckling it briefly before pressing closer. “It would be you, me, and our dogs. A sailboat to take on vacations. Quiet. Peaceful.”

“Sunday mornings in bed with you,” Hannibal sighs, shifting himself closer as Will gasps. “These long legs of mine around your waist as you bury yourself inside of me.”

“Fuck,” Will sighs, gripping those long legs as they wrap around his waist in the tub. Hannibal strokes them more firmly, and Will tugs him up onto his lap, effectively forcing Hannibal to release his grip on them. “I kind of want that right now, darlin’,” he says with a chuckle while Hannibal grips his damp curls in his fingers, tipping his face up for a kiss. 

“I’ve already told you, anything you want, Will,” he sighs. “Anything.”

“Will it hurt here?” Will asks. “There’s no way to… uh,” 

“It’ll be perfect,” Hannibal assures him while taking Will’s hand and putting it against his ass pointedly. 

Will smiles against his neck as he eases a finger inside of him, the heat of the water barely touching the heat surrounding his finger. Hannibal arches against him, gripping the curls at the nape of his neck while pressing kisses to his temple. The water helps, but he can still feel drag when he adds another finger, and he tips his face away from Hannibal to look up at him. “It’ll hurt here,” he says softly. “I really don’t want to hurt you.”

“I didn’t tell you of my first time so you could treat me like blown glass,” Hannibal replies, his mouth tipped downwards. “I am the farthest thing from fragile, Will.”

Will hesitates at that, scissoring his fingers inside him, and Hannibal sighs, pressing closer. He alternates between stretching him and brushing that spot inside, each movement of his fingers causing Hannibal to arch his back beautifully. Will takes his time stretching him open before he adds another finger, pressing kisses to his throat and his jaw as a distraction. He’s not sure his partner even notices, as Hannibal’s eyes are closed and he’s rocking against him, seemingly lost in the pleasure of it. 

Hannibal seems to lose his patience after a bit, tugging Will’s fingers out of him while he goes up on Will’s thighs to take his cock and press it against his own entrance, sinking down gently in one fluid motion. Will grips his hips tightly in shock, his toes curling in the water at the sudden heat and constriction around him. “Hold on, wait,” Will gasps.

“I _just_ said that I am not frag-”

“Not for you,” Will interjects while desperately trying to still Hannibal’s hips from moving. “For _me_. Fuck, you feel good and I almost ruined it.”

The slow smile from Hannibal looks suspiciously smug, and Will tugs his mouth down for a soft kiss. “Okay,” Will says with a chuckle. 

Hannibal grins as he rocks slowly over him, and Will presses inside of him almost leisurely. Hannibal’s legs are wrapped around his waist, his ankles crossed behind Will’s back. Will grips him behind his thighs, urging him so close that Hannibal’s cock is pressed between their soapy stomachs, gliding wetly between them with every minute roll of Hannibal’s hips. It must feel good, because the wanton little moan that Hannibal makes as he rides Will is delicious. Hannibal wraps his arms around Will’s shoulders for leverage, crushing Will’s mouth in a devastating kiss as they work themselves to completion.

A flitting thought passes through Will’s mind, wondering if it would always be like this. Every time they are together this way, Hannibal’s walls collapse around them, and Will can feel everything from him. There isn’t a single piece of him that’s distracted by anything else. There isn’t a thing Will is doing that Hannibal wishes was different. He’s just… absorbed in the moment with Will, and it makes it intensely erotic. 

The singular focus on Will hasn’t waned or eased. if anything, it’s gotten more intense. He knows his partner loves him. He can feel it in every look and touch they exchange. They both are… a little bit too damaged to vocalize it just yet. It doesn’t lessen it, though. 

He looks up at Hannibal’s face, noting the darkness of his eyes. His fingers are laced through the wet curls at the nape of Will’s neck, his mouth gently parted as he takes his pleasure. “You are beautiful,” Will says softly while gliding his hand up the strong, wet, expanse of his back. Hannibal flexes his muscles around him, clenching him inside hard enough that Will gasps a moan against the base of his neck.

“Will,” he breathes. “You are _mine_ , beloved.”

Will nods weakly as Hannibal rides him hard enough to slosh the water around them, reaching between them to wrap his soapy fingers around Hannibal’s cock. “Yours.”

Hannibal moans as Will pumps him in time with the pace he’s keeping, and Will grips his neck with the hand that isn’t jerking his cock, pulling him down for another kiss. Hannibal comes beautifully, making a wrecked little noise in the cavern of Will’s mouth as Will continues to thrust inside of him. His muscles are fluttering around Will, and the steady clench of him around his cock makes Will snap his hips a few times more before he buries himself inside to the hilt to come deep inside of his beautiful partner’s body. 

Hannibal chuckles against his shoulder, pressing kisses to his collarbone. “You know how to relax me, there’s no question.”

Will presses a kiss to the hollow of his throat, pulling away enough that he can touch those lovely cheekbones. “I’m feeling pretty sated, too,” he agrees with a laugh. “You’re good for me.”

Hannibal’s face pinches so briefly that Will assumes he might have misread it. “We may need to shower, now.”

“Worth it,” Will says with a grin as he leans in to kiss him briefly. 

Will climbs from the tub while Hannibal cleans himself in the water a bit, and Will gets the shower going for the both of them while Hannibal drains the tub.

They climb in the shower together and soap up briefly before drying off and getting redressed. Once back in the study with their abandoned brandies, Hannibal nestles against Will’s side on the couch again, each smelling clean and damp from the shower. “I wanted to revisit our conversation from Sunday,” Hannibal says hesitantly. 

“What conversation was that?” Will asks after a sip of his brandy, easing his spare arm around Hannibal’s waist. 

“The one where you disregarded my attempt to get you to visit my tailor.”

“Hannibal,” Will sighs.

“I know you don’t like anything that feels like charity,” Hannibal says with a raised hand. “This is not for me, beloved. It’s for you. I want you to look as perfectly exquisite as you are. I know you don’t own a tux,”

“And how do you know that?” Will interjects with a raised eyebrow.

“I’ve been in your closet. Or have you forgotten I have clothes in there, now?” Hannibal asks, pressing his lips together.

“Please just trust me that I have it figured out, okay?” Will says pleadingly. 

“Renting a tux is not…” Hannibal sighs, swiping a hand across his face. “Will, _please_. Don’t be difficult about this.”

“You’re the one being difficult,” Will says with a laugh, squeezing him around his waist a bit to sooth the sting of his words. “Please just trust me. I’ve got a tux.”

Hannibal seems somewhat agitated again, and Will presses a kiss to his cheek. “Do we need to soak in the tub again?” he asks teasingly.

His partner cracks a hesitant grin at that, turning to Will with an arch expression. “Every day that you fight me about it makes it more and more difficult to have a suit made in time. I just want you aware of that.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” Will assures him. “I don’t need a suit. So please, stop worrying about it.”

“Have you ever been to an opera?” Hannibal asks eventually.

“You know I haven’t,” Will sighs, rolling his eyes affectionately. 

Hannibal licks his lips after a sip of brandy, and Will has to contain the urge to lick it from his lips for him. “It’s a moving experience,” he says after a moment. “The music is truly outstanding. Faust is a personal favorite of mine.”

“What’s it about?” Will asks after a sip of his brandy.

“I fear giving away too much,” Hannibal replies softly. “Faust is an aging scholar. He realizes that his studies have amounted to nothing and have caused him to miss out on life and love. He attempts to kill himself but stops when he hears a choir. He curses hope and faith, and instead asks for infernal guidance. Mephistopheles appears and persuades Faust to buy his services on earth in exchange for Faust’s services in hell. Faust agrees, and his goblet of poison is transformed into an elixir of youth, making the aged doctor a young man again.”

“He gets a do-over?” Will asks hesitantly.

“Of a sort,” Hannibal says with a grin. “It has always resonated with me. My studies have consumed my life thus far. I’ve never wanted to regret my life when I get older, but I always assumed finding… love would be impossible for me.”

“Has it been?” Will asks softly. 

“I’m beginning to think it is not,” Hannibal replies, pressing a kiss to Will’s temple. “Had I never met you, I fear I would have grown as bitter as Faust in his old age. I believed it was my destiny, until you came into my life.”

It’s possibly the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to Will in his entire life, and he has no idea what to say in response. It’s basically a confession of love, without the obviousness of the words. Will holds him tighter in response, sliding his fingers along his back in reassurance. “I had given up, when I met you,” Will says eventually, his voice small. “I was resolved to settle with what I had, as I thought it was all I’d ever be worthy of having. You came along, and now I see that everything up until you was irrelevant. You are… everything, Hannibal.”

Hannibal sets his glass down to tip Will’s face up for a kiss, and Will parts his mouth with lips and tongue, the kiss sweet and gentle. 

The rest of their night is mostly quiet, but it’s not uncomfortable. The farthest thing from it, in fact. They stay close, holding tight and pressing kisses while savoring one another, and Will can see himself like this decades from now.

He can imagine Hannibal with a little gray in his hair, a few laugh lines around his eyes. He can see them just as involved then as they are now, and the thought doesn’t frighten him. He wants it. He wants it with his entire being. The only fear he has is that he’ll lose it, somehow.

He’s determined not to.


	23. Chapter 23

Will leaves sometime after ten, even though it’s the last thing he wants to do. When he gets home after eleven, he still takes his dogs out to toss a ball with them in the front yard a bit before feeding them. He feels guilty for leaving them alone for so long, but they look like they’ve already forgiven him.

He’s tired on Wednesday, but when he goes to Alana’s office after his morning lecture, he intentionally straightens up. He doesn’t want her to think that he’s tired because he’s haunted by what he did.

She welcomes him into her sterile-looking office, and he sits in the same leather chair as he did the week before. “You look tired,” she notes with a brief frown. “Have you been sleeping well?”

“Much better,” Will says with a shrug. “I was with my partner until late last night, which is why I’m tired this morning. But when I go to bed, I sleep through the night.”

She does her best to keep her face neutral, he’ll give her that. He can still read the jealousy as easily as the morning paper, though. “The last time we spoke, you talked about feeling regret.”

“I don’t know that I still do,” Will replies. “If I hadn’t done what I did, I would be dead. I have no doubt about that. McAdory knew that I was alone. He knew that I was doing surveillance interviews. If I hadn’t shot him, I know I would have been killed.”

“You seem certain of that,” Alana notes with a tilt of her head. 

“He blocked my exit out,” Will says defensively. “He was confessing what he did to those girls like he knew that no one would ever hear it after he told me. I was afraid, Dr. Bloom. I know what people are thinking about. I know you know that. He was thinking about how good it is to confess his sins to someone who would never repeat it.”

“You took a life,” she begins.

“And saved my own,” Will finishes for her, averting his eyes towards the windows. “I have to live with that, but at least I get to live.”

“What have your days been like this week?” she asks after a few minutes.

“I work, I grade papers,” he says with a shrug. “I take care of my dogs. I had Bev, Jimmy, and Brian over my house on Saturday night for a dinner with Hannibal. He’s been… a rock for me. Something solid when I’m feeling adrift.”

“He shouldn’t be helping you as a therapist,” she says distastefully.

“He’s not,” Will replies evenly. “He’s helping me as a loved one helps in a crisis. He’s been there for me whenever I need him.”

“It’s very good that you’re making friends,” Alana says after clearing her throat. The comment about loved ones threw her, and he’s almost bitterly pleased about it as she tries to find her bearings. 

“Beverly and Jimmy have been very helpful,” Will nods. “Bev went through something similar a few years back, and she’s given me advice, too. She’s also shared what she went through with me, and I find that helps. To know I’m not alone.”

“You seem much more at ease this week,” she says politely. “However, I would like to see you one more time before I clear you.”

“You’re _joking_ ,” Will replies indignantly. “I could be helping, Dr. Bloom. There’s a guy taking people’s intestines, and I know I could help. Another week feels unnecessary.”

She purses her lips, glancing away from him briefly. “Be that as it may, I have to sleep at night, Will. If I put you in another situation like what you went through too soon, you could have a breakdown. Another week is not a request.”

He swallows thickly, shaking his head. “I just don’t know what you’re looking for. I am okay, I’m sleeping okay, I have a support system in place,” he sighs. “I don’t know what else you want.”

“What I want is to give you time,” Alana replies. “Time to absorb what you’ve done. Time to find peace with the decision you made, and how that shapes your life from now on. You may not realize it, but it’s changed you. Time will allow you to understand that.”

“I killed someone, Alana,” Will says bitterly. “If you think I don’t understand how that’s changed me, then you clearly aren’t paying attention.”

She touches the curl on her shoulder absently, her eyes intense as she stares at him. “I’ll see you next Wednesday at ten,” she says dismissively. “I’ll be sure to let Jack know that you’re still on restrictions.”

“Wonderful,” he says sarcastically before leaving her office.

Bev catches him as he’s heading to his small office, noting the sour expression on his face. “She didn’t clear you?”

“ _No_ ,” he says bitterly as he walks in. She follows him inside, sitting at the edge of his desk while he takes his students papers out to grade them. “I don’t know what the hell she wants from me.”

“It took three weeks for Hannibal to clear me,” she shrugs. “These things take time.”

“It’s ridiculous,” he sighs, settling into his office chair. “I’m fucking annoyed.”

She laughs, turning to him with a raised eyebrow. “No kidding.”

He lets out a breath, swiping a hand across his face. “Any leads on the guy with the missing intestines?”

“Nope,” she replies, reaching for his letter opener to diddle with it. “Did Hannibal like his flowers?”

Will chuckles at that, twirling his chair to face her. “He told me he _loved_ them,” he says with a little quirk of his mouth. 

“You look like you didn’t get much sleep,” she says teasingly, and he laughs.

“I didn’t,” he agrees with a blush. “You want to get a greasy burger with me tonight? Maybe a beer or six?”

She laughs, kicking his chair affectionately. “Always. Want me to extend the invite to the guys?”

“Yeah,” Will shrugs. “I’d like that.”

“Assuming no bodies, we can meet you at Finnigan’s again,” she says with a shrug. “Unless there’s somewhere else you want to go?”

“That sounds good,” Will says with a grin. “That habanero burger I had last time is calling to me.”

The rest of his afternoon goes by quickly, and he heads to the restaurant at five, meeting them at their spot at the bar.

It ends up only being Bev and Jimmy that come, as Brian already has plans with Kelley after work. “So what did Hannibal think of the flowers?” Jimmy asks with a grin, sipping his glass of wine.

“He loved them,” Will says after a gulp of his beer. “Thanks for helping me out with that, by the way.”

“No problem,” Jimmy chirps brightly. “Maybe you’ll remember my help the next time your dear boyfriend has leftovers.”

“Dr. Hotass?” Will asks with a laugh while Beverly slaps him.

“Oh, fuck off with that,” she laughs.

“Dr. Bloom didn’t clear you, huh?” Jimmy say, leaning back so the waitress can put his chicken tenders down.

“Not yet,” Will replies, thanking the waitress as she sets his giant burger down in front of him. “She’s looking for some remorse, I think. I don’t know how to fake it.”

“Tough to feel remorse when your life is in danger,” Bev agrees while tossing the pickles from her burger. “Next week, Graham. You’ll be back with us in no time.”

“Has there been any suspected Ripper murders?” Will asks distractedly, taking a bite of his burger and moaning his approval of it.

“Not in weeks,” Jimmy replies. “The last one was the one you came out to see.”

“That was well over a month ago,” Will realizes. “Jesus, I wonder what he’s revving up for.”

“Maybe he’s on vacation,” Bev says with a chuckle. “Either way I don’t mind. It’s nice sleeping through the night.”

“There’s no chance the victim with his intestines taken is him?” Will wonders.

“No way,” Jimmy says with an adamant shake of his head. “The cuts look like they were made with a dull kitchen knife. The victim was dead before the mutilation, strangled with some kind of wire. Not our guy’s usual M.O.”

“Not him, then,” Will agrees after a bite of his burger. 

“What’s with all these weirdos taking people’s intestines?” Beverly wonders, picking the melted cheese from her burger off the plate. “What good are they?”

“I think the answer to that is in the potassium hydroxide in the body cavity,” Will replies. “What is he doing with them that he needs lye to do it?”

None of them have an answer for that, so they eat quietly for a few minutes before Bev turns to Will again. “Have you gone for another suit fitting?”

“Friday,” Will replies. “Then I have two more the following week to make last minute adjustments.”

“I want to go for your last fitting,” she says with a bright smile. “I want to see what Will Graham looks like all cleaned up.”

“He’s going to look like he does now, just in a suit,” Jimmy replies dryly. “Pretty people don’t change all that much with or without a tux. I want to see you in the social pages on Hannibal’s arm.”

“Oh, maybe I want that to be how I see you?” Bev says with a laugh. “Our filthy little street walker all dressed up for the opera.”

“Fuck off,” Will laughs, covering his mouth. 

“No, seriously though,” Bev says, touching his shoulder briefly. “The two of you are adorable. The way he looks at you,” she sighs. “I want that.”

“With Dr. Hotass or with your own hot doctor?” Jimmy asks teasingly, and she chokes on her burger as she punches his arm.

Will gets home just before eight. He takes his dogs for a long walk before he feeds them and settles on his couch. He wants to grade a few essays before turning in, but he takes his cellphone and calls Hannibal first.

“Beloved,” he answers immediately, and Will grins.

“I was thinking about you,” Will says with a blush. “I wanted you to know that.”

“We are on the same page, then,” Hannibal muses. “I was just sketching your face.”

“Are you?” Will asks, blushing to his hairline. 

“Yes,” Hannibal says, and Will can hear that he’s smiling. “I was thinking of the way your eyelashes settle on your cheeks when you’re sleeping. My hand was moving with a charcoal before I even realized what I was doing.”

“I was promised a sketch of your ass,” Will reminds him with a laugh. 

“I do recall promising you such a thing,” Hannibal agrees with a chuckle. “How was your day?”

“Well, I wasn’t cleared to return to field work,” Will says reluctantly. “But I went for greasy burgers with Bev and Jimmy, and I’m not feeling as miserable about it right now.”

“And how are they?” 

“Good,” Will says with a grin. “They’re good.”

“I had lunch with Bedelia today,” Hannibal tells him, and Will frowns to himself at the admission. 

“That’s… nice,” Will replies, but his tone implies that he thinks it’s anything but.

“No need for jealousy,” Hannibal says with a laugh. “She wanted advice on a patient that’s become… a nuisance. I thought I could use some advice about what to do with Franklyn and Tobias.”

“Did she help?” Will asks.

“Not particularly,” he replies dryly. “Her advice is what I already suspected. I should continue seeing them to avoid a complaint.”

“Not very good news,” Will sighs. “I’m sorry, Hannibal.”

“It’s fine,” he says assuredly. “She says hello, by the way.”

“I’m sure she does.”

“Will?” 

“Yeah?”

“I’m yours, beloved,” Hannibal chuckles. “The green of envy is unwarranted.”

Will hesitates at that, picking dog fur off of his pajama pants. “I imagined you with her,” he says softly. “She’s… perfect for you. Elegant. Refined. I can picture her in your arms in a glittery evening gown as you twirl her around on a dancefloor.”

“Where on earth is this coming from?” Hannibal wonders. 

“It’s just a thought I’ve had,” Will says, embarrassment coloring his tone. “I can’t dance. Not even to save my life.”

“You can’t dance?” Hannibal says in mock indignation. “Well I suppose I have to end this between us.”

“It’s not funny,” Will replies tartly. 

“You’re right,” Hannibal agrees easily. “It’s _not_. I don’t care if you know how to dance or not. I don’t care if you never learn to. You are perfect for me, beloved. You’re all I see, you’re all I want. If I were satisfied with frivolous elegance and refinement then yes, she’d be perfect for me. I want you, Will.”

“With my scruffy face and dog hair?” Will asks in a small voice.

“ _Especially_ with a scruffy face and dog hair,” Hannibal laughs. “With the surly set of your shoulders and the warmth of your smile. I can’t fault you on your jealousy, however. I must admit that sometimes the easy friendship that you’ve attained with Beverly causes me discomfort.”

“Bev?” Will asks in shock. “She… she is just a friend, Hannibal.”

“I know,” he replies quickly. “But every smile you gift to someone else feels like a barb. Her eyes linger on you, occasionally. Not that I blame her, as you’re unbearably beautiful. I can be very possessive too, Will.”

“What a ridiculous pair we make,” Will says with a laugh. “I miss you.”

“Perhaps Friday night you’d allow me to take you to dinner?” 

“I’d like that,” Will agrees with a smile. “Then we are spending Saturday in bed.”

“I’d like that, too,” Hannibal chuckles. “Will?”

“Yeah?”

“I…” Hannibal hesitates, and it’s just the sound of their breathing over the line. “I’ll see you Friday.”

Will bites his lip, glancing down at Winston who’s curled up beside him on the couch. “See you Friday, darlin’,” he says softly.

Thursday goes by quickly, and Friday morning Will brings his dogs to Hannibal’s house before he heads to work for the day. Before he knows it, he’s pulling up in front of Suitables, fidgeting as he walks into the shop.

The suit is held together with pins, and Kevin helps him pull it on carefully. The fit is excellent, but Kevin still fusses with it, tugging it in places and re-pinning it here and there.

The fabric is absolutely gorgeous, and Will turns in the mirror, smiling softly as the material shifts from navy to black in the light. “Stunning,” Kevin says with a sigh. “I’m going to start sewing the pieces Monday. If you could come back Tuesday night just to check how we’re doing, I’d appreciate that.”

“Will it be ready for Saturday?” Will asks.

“Definitely. Final fitting will be Thursday,” Kevin replies. “I’ll have the suit pressed, and you can pick it up on Friday.”

“Thank you so much,” Will says appreciatively. 

“Maybe you could refer Dr. Lecter to me?” Kevin wonders. “It would be incredible to gain a client like that.”

“I’ll tell him,” Will promises him, although he doubts that Hannibal would leave his tailor for anyone, and with good reason. His suits fit him like a glove.

Will heads to Hannibal’s house after his fitting, taking his garment bag and overnight bag with him into the house. His two happy dogs greet him at the door, and he laughs as he walks in. “Hey guys!” he greets them. “What are you doing? I hope you were good.”

“They were perfect gentlemen,” Hannibal says with a grin as he comes downstairs. He’s dressed impeccably in a charcoal suit, a deep red button down underneath. He’s breathtaking, and Will smiles up at him as he comes across the foyer. 

“You look good enough to eat,” Will says while tugging him closer, inhaling the spice of his cologne greedily. Hannibal tugs him in for a kiss, and Will grins against his mouth, gliding his fingers across the sharp edge of a cheekbone. He pulls away with a flush on his face, dipping his eyes back down towards that tempting mouth. “Do I have time for a quick shower? I wanted to get dressed here.”

“We have plenty of time,” Hannibal assures him. “I made reservations for eight.”

Will touches the red and black paisley tie he’s wearing, biting his lip. “How fancy is the place that you’re taking me? I didn’t bring a tie.”

“Lucky for you, I have more than I can wear in a month,” Hannibal says with a grin. “Go shower, and I’ll pick something that matches your suit.”

Will heads upstairs after digging out a clean pair of boxers from his shoulder bag while Hannibal opens his garment bag, touching the slate gray button down he brought with gentle fingers. He’s brought his only good black suit, and Hannibal heads into his walk-in closet as Will gets in the bathroom.

He trims his stubble shorter and showers quickly, rummaging through Hannibal’s medicine cabinet to take his aftershave, too. He knows this is a possessive action even as he rubs Hannibal’s aftershave into his cheeks, but he seriously doubts that Hannibal will mind too much. He takes a moment to fuss with his curls, trying his best to tame them into some semblance of control. He’d need to have a trim before they go to the opera. He doesn’t want his curls to fall over the collar of his tux.

Will comes out of the bathroom in his boxers, walking into Hannibal’s bedroom to find him fussing with a few ties next to his suit that’s laid out on the bed. Will glances at them, noting that they’re all far nicer than the suit he’s brought with him. One of them catches his eye, a silvery gray tie with a faint blue and black floral pattern on it. He touches it gently, and Hannibal hums. “That’s the one I was thinking, too.”

Hannibal glances up at him, his nostrils flaring as he steps closer. His eyes are intense as he tilts his face towards Will’s neck, his fingers trailing up Will’s bare abdomen softly. “You’re wearing my aftershave.”

“Yes,” Will admits with a blush on his cheeks. “My aftershave is from Walmart.”

“You smell like me,” Hannibal notes absently, trailing his nose against Will’s jawline. “Do you intend to go to dinner? Or are you trying to persuade me into bed?”

Will chuckles at that, moaning as Hannibal’s hand travels lower to cup his growing erection through his boxers. “I wanted to go to dinner,” he says eventually.

“And now?” Hannibal wonders.

“Now I want you,” Will says breathlessly, and Hannibal lets him go with a mischievous little chuckle. 

“Tempting creature. Get dressed, please. I want to show you off.” Will scowls at him as he steps away. “I’m going to feed the dogs, join me downstairs when you’re ready.”

Will gets dressed in front of his floor length mirror, adjusting the gorgeous tie at his neck. He never gets cleaned up quite like this, and he’s mostly pleased by the reflection he sees in the mirror. 

When Will comes downstairs, he finds Hannibal at his back door, watching his dogs sniff around his small backyard. “They’re going to poop back there.” Will warns him with a laugh.

“I’ll worry about it in the springtime,” Hannibal says blandly. He turns to Will, his eyes appraising him from head to toe. “What a gorgeous man.”

Will rolls his eyes, fidgeting with the cuffs of his blazer. Hannibal steps over to him, adjusting his tie a bit more while Will stares up at him. Winston barks from the backyard, attacking one of Hannibal’s solar lights that have kicked on. “Winston!” Will yells at him, clapping his hands together. “No! Sorry, he’s never seen one of those I don’t think.”

“It looks like a ball to him,” Hannibal chuckles. “A ball that lights up. He’s fine, Will. Let him play.”

“He’ll try to eat it, and I’d rather not go to the vet tonight,” Will laughs. “Come on! Go pee!”

Winston sulks as he wanders away from the solar light, peeing on the side of the brick walkway that lines the rosebushes. Once both dogs have properly desecrated Hannibal’s backyard, he calls them in and refills their water dish. “Ready?” Hannibal asks, and Will nods.

They head into the Harbor East side of Baltimore, right on the waterfront. Will turns to Hannibal with a raised eyebrow as they pull up to a restaurant that Will would never even think of going to. Charleston was an upscale restaurant, very much out of Will’s price range.

Hannibal is greeted warmly by the host, the young woman calling Hannibal ‘Dr. Lecter’ when they walk up. It’s absolutely gorgeous inside, warm reds and soft lighting. They’re taken to a private table at the back of the restaurant, facing a window that overlooks the docks. “Everywhere we go, you get the best seat in the house.”

Hannibal smiles at that, flicking the button on his blazer open with deft fingers. “I usually take colleagues here,” he replies with a shrug. “The food is exquisite.”

Will stares at the menu, trying to understand how he’s even supposed to order. “I don’t understand this,” he says with an awkward laugh.

“The courses are very small,” Hannibal explains softly. “Choose three or four to start. I recommend allowing them to choose the wine pairing with each meal, so you get a half glass of wine perfectly paired for you.”

“Three or four courses?” Will asks. The price is enough to make his stomach turn, and Hannibal touches his arm. 

“Will, please. I’ve taken five or six of my colleagues here at one time. Order anything you’d like.”

Will lets out a breath as a server comes to the table to pour them each a glass of sparkling water. Will starts with a lobster soup, opting in for the wine pairing, and Hannibal orders the same for himself.

“You look very uncomfortable,” Hannibal says, and his mouth is pinched regretfully as he says it. 

Will shakes his head, biting his lip. “It’s not… I’m sorry, it’s just that this,” he waves his hand for emphasis. “I’ve never been anywhere like this. It’s just… overwhelming.”

“I want you to have all the pleasures in life,” Hannibal says softly. “Everything and anything. This is just dinner, Will.”

“I know,” Will replies, glancing down at his sparkling water. “You just have to try and understand that I grew up very poor. My idea of a fancy dinner used to be meatloaf and mashed potatoes.”

“Nothing wrong with a good meatloaf,” Hannibal muses. “When I host my dinner parties, I usually hire help from here. The staff is extraordinarily efficient.”

Will has no idea what to even say to that, so he sips his sparkling water, glancing out the window at the boats. “What should I get for a second course?” Will asks.

“I’m getting the duck confit salad. The blackberry vinaigrette is wonderful.”

Will nods at that, skimming his eyes over the menu. “Is it weird if I order the same thing?”

“Not at all,” Hannibal chuckles. “For one of your courses, I’d suggest the shrimp and grits for you. It’s made with andouille sausage, and I think it might remind you of home.”

Will smiles at that, blushing as he touches Hannibal’s hand. “Still waiting on my gumbo,” he teases.

“I need to make more sausage before I can make it,” Hannibal replies, and his eyes dance back out towards the window. “It’s a bit of work and as of late, I haven’t felt… inspired.”

“I take up a lot of your time,” Will says with an apologetic frown. 

“You’ve consumed me entirely,” Hannibal says seriously, his fingers gripping Will’s wrist briefly. “I do not regret it in the least.”

Will leans over the table, mindless of the people around them or the impropriety of the gesture, kissing Hannibal soundly. Hannibal grins against his mouth, touching the side of his face gently as his tongue sweeps Will’s mouth once before he pulls away. “I had to,” Will grins as he settles back in his seat. 

“The sweeter courses are usually at the end of the meal,” Hannibal smiles, and Will melts. 

His soup arrives just as he’s considering kissing him again, but he’s not too upset. It’s absolutely divine. “This is amazing,” Will sighs. “There’s so much lobster in it.”

The wine pairing that goes with it is perfect too, and Will kind of understands why you’d pay for a meal like this. They order their second course as the first one is cleared, and Hannibal’s fingers find Will’s own on the table.

“What are you ordering for the third course?” Will asks.

“The pan roasted wild rockfish,” he says with a shrug. “Either that or the Hudson Valley foie gras. Perhaps I’ll get both.”

“Four courses?” Will asks dumbly. “Don’t you put yourself in a food coma. I have plans for you when we get home.”

Hannibal huffs out a laugh, drawing the attention of the people next to them. “A food coma? Will, really.”

“It’s a real thing,” Will says with a chuckle. “I usually have one after I have dinner with you.”

“What plans do you have, if you don’t mind me asking?” Hannibal asks, and the mischievous glint in his eyes has Will squirming in his seat.

“Oh, nothing really,” Will says, blushing to the collar of his blazer. “What I’ve been thinking about is you fucking me.”

Hannibal chokes on his sparkling water, dabbing his mouth with his napkin while giving Will a withering expression. “Nothing really,” he repeats dryly.

“I want you to rim me until I beg you to fuck me,” Will says lowly while Hannibal stares at him like he’d like to fuck him right here. “I want your mouth on me. Inside of me.”

The waitress brings their next course, each of them pink and just a hair too aroused to be in public. Hannibal sips his wine, thanking the waitress before turning to Will. “What else?”

Will takes a bite of his salad, moaning at the crispy saltiness of the duck with the sweetness of the blackberry vinaigrette. “Then I want you to take me from behind,” he says nonchalantly. His voice is low enough that Hannibal has to lean in to hear him. “I want it to be rough enough that your bedframe feels it for days.”

Hannibal lays his napkin over his lap, shifting his chair closer so his legs are covered by the tablecloth. “Will,” he says lowly. 

“Eat your dinner, Dr. Lecter,” Will says politely. “You’ll need some carbs to burn later.”

Will eats his dinner quietly, toeing off his shoe before straightening his leg out. He rests his sock-clad foot between Hannibal’s thighs, easing his foot against the generous erection he finds there. Hannibal drops his fork, swallowing thickly while Will continues to eat as though nothing is happening.

Hannibal presses his foot against himself under the tablecloth, letting out a heavy breath as he presses against him. Will is fucking throbbing in his own slacks, but he refuses to look affected. The look Hannibal is throwing him lets him know he’s going to get it later, and Will is so smug about it that he smiles around a forkful of duck. 

He withdraws his foot abruptly, and Hannibal makes a little noise in his throat as he picks up his fork again. “I’m going to give you exactly what you’ve asked for, beloved,” Hannibal says softly while spearing a crispy piece of duck on his fork. 

“Good,” Will says with a smirk, licking his lips of the remnants of the vinaigrette. “I look forward to it.”

The pink in Hannibal’s cheeks recedes to the normal bronzed tone of his skin as their third course arrives. The shrimp and grits that Will ordered is fantastic, but he eyes the foie gras that Hannibal ordered, too. “Isn’t that goose liver?”

“Or duck,” Hannibal says with a nod. “The bird is generally force fed in a method known as gavage. The taste is singular.”

Will grimaces at that, spearing another perfectly grilled shrimp on his fork. “Kind of cruel, isn’t it?”

“Try this,” Hannibal replies, holding his fork out with a sliver of meat on it. 

Will purses his lips as he leans in, accepting the offering hesitantly. “It’s… alright? I mostly taste apples. It complements the richness of the meat, though.”

“Apple cider is used as the acid that counters the fat of the meat in this dish,” Hannibal replies proudly.

“Mine is better,” Will grins, holding out a fork with a sausage and half a shrimp that he dipped in his grits.

Hannibal accepts the offering, closing his eyes while he chews. “The smokiness of the sausage paired with the creaminess of the grits is exquisite.”

“There’s a little heat on the shrimp, too,” Will smiles. “This is delicious. I actually think I could do another course, but I’d rather have dessert.”

“Their apple tartlet is perfection,” Hannibal tells him. “They also have a chocolate hazelnut torte that is a personal favorite of mine.”

They order one of each, and Will takes Hannibal’s hand in his. “This has been… amazing. Thank you.”

“Our night is far from over,” Hannibal assures him while Will blushes. “But you are most welcome.”

The apple tartlet is served with maple ginger ice cream, and it’s one of the best desserts that Will has had in his life, second maybe to Hannibal’s peach pie. Hannibal offers him bites of his chocolate tarte, and the richness of the chocolate urges a moan from Will’s lips. “We should have just come here for endless desserts,” Will laughs. “Growing up, I rarely had dessert at a restaurant. If we were lucky enough to go out to eat, I’d usually skim for the least expensive thing on the menu. Dessert was an extravagance.”

“I suppose I understand your sweet tooth now,” Hannibal says fondly. “Who made you peach pie?”

“My Nana,” Will says softly. “My father’s mother. She passed when I was eleven, but I’d bake with her sometimes. She didn’t write anything down for her recipes. Nothing. So after she passed, I tried to make her pie crust a few times, but… it never came out right. Your crust is the closest thing I’ve had to hers.”

“The secret to a good crust,” Hannibal says conspiratorially, his mouth quirked in a little smile. “Is lard.”

Will laughs. “No kidding. I know that, I just don’t understand why mine are mushy. They’re never flaky.”

“Ah,” Hannibal says brightly, his tiny grin turning into a smile. “You don’t keep your dough chilled. It must be cold through the entire process, including rolling it out. I’ll show you, beloved.”

Hannibal pays the bill when it comes, and they head back to Hannibal’s house. Will unlocks the door for them, greeting his eager dogs who are ridiculously happy to see him, even though he’s only been gone a few hours. 

“I’m going to take them for a little walk before we settle in for the night.” Will says while petting Winston, smiling as Buster nudges the bigger dog out of the way.

“I’ll join you,” Hannibal offers politely, snatching their leashes from the coat hooks by the door. 

Hannibal takes Winston, who no longer cowers at being walked by him, while Will walks Buster, who doesn’t care who is walking him at all.

“It’s nice to come home to them,” Hannibal says absently, smiling as Buster shreds a tuft of dry grass to the side of the curb. “Having something there that’s… missed you.”

“It is,” Will agrees easily. “They are my favorite thing about coming home after a long day. Winston seems to like you, now.”

“He and I have come a long way,” Hannibal grins. “Haven’t we, Winston?”

Winston looks up at him eagerly upon hearing his name, his tail wagging hesitantly as though waiting for a treat or a ball to be thrown. Hannibal pets him instead, and the dog lolls his tongue out happily, pleased at being praised for whatever he’s done.

They walk them around the block, and Will picks up after them after they’ve gone number two before they head back to the house. “I’m going to… uh, freshen up a bit,” Will says with a blush. If he wants Hannibal’s mouth on him, he wants to clean up first.

“Of course,” Hannibal says with a knowing smirk. “I’ll just settle the dogs, and I’ll meet you upstairs.”

Will heads to the upstairs bathroom, opting to take another shower to clean himself up. He cleans himself thoroughly, as he knows that what he’s asked Hannibal to do to him will be… intimate. 

He doesn’t bother putting any clothes on as he heads back into the bedroom after toweling dry. Hannibal is already standing at his dresser in black boxer-briefs, putting away his cufflinks from tonight. He turns to Will with his mouth parted, his eyes sliding across the naked expanse of his body appraisingly. Will settles himself on the bed, fidgeting a bit in self-consciousness. 

“Such a beautiful contradiction,” Hannibal says softly, walking to the foot of the bed. “You were so forward in the restaurant, all smoldering confidence and heated words.” Hannibal crawls onto the bed, kissing Will’s ankles, then his calves. “Yet once you’re in front of me, impossibly magnificent, you blush and hide yourself like a timid creature.”

Will sighs as Hannibal strokes his half-hard cock to attention, groaning as his partner sinks his mouth over him purposefully. 

His tongue licks along his shaft while his hands cup and roll his balls, and Will settles against the pillows, spreading his thighs to make room for him. Hannibal presses a kiss to the head of his cock before pulling away. “On your stomach, Will,” Hannibal says lowly.

Will rolls over almost shyly, clenching his cheeks together while Hannibal nudges him to his knees. “Until you _beg_ for it, I believe you said,” Hannibal says with a throaty chuckle while Will moans into the pillows. 

His partner kisses the small of his back, gliding his tongue between his cheeks so softly that Will arches against his face, pressing closer. Hannibal keeps him from moving by gripping his ass, spreading him with his thumbs before licking in, and Will bucks against the sensation, rolling his hips in search of more.

His tongue is impossibly soft as it licks against his entrance, and Will gasps, clenching his fingers in the soft sheets. “God, that feels so good,” Will sighs. “Hannibal,” he drawls long and loud as his partner sinks his tongue inside of him.

Hannibal hums against his entrance, suckling the muscle softly before gliding his mouth downwards to lick at his perineum. “ _Mano širdis. Aš tave myliu_ ,” Hannibal sighs, pressing kisses to the small of his back. Will has no idea what he’s saying, but the raspy drawl of it makes Will moan. “ _Aš tavo. Tu mano_ ,” he continues, licking his way back to Will’s entrance.

His tongue delves inside, and Will arches his back and presses against his face. It feels so fucking good, but it’s nowhere near close enough to come. Will knows he asked for this, so he lets himself bask in the pleasure of it, even though he aches to be touched a little more than he’s getting.

Hannibal’s mouth is torturous. Gentle licks and sucks to his entrance, a soft tongue occasionally probing inside. “Hannibal, please,” Will sighs, gripping the pillow tightly. “Please.”

“I’ve only just started,” he replies with a throaty little chuckle. “Don’t tell me you’re already desperate, beloved?”

Will moans as he presses his fingers against the muscle, gently easing two fingertips inside. He’s soaked with saliva, so the sound is positively lurid. All he gets is just the first knuckle of two fingers, and Will rocks against them, trying to ease them deeper. It doesn’t happen, and he lets out a frustrated noise when Hannibal’s tongue joins his fingers again.

He reaches for his own cock that’s hanging heavily between his thighs, and Hannibal grabs at his wrist, pressing it back to the bed. “You will not touch yourself; do you understand?”

“Oh, fuck,” Will groans. “Please, please.”

Hannibal shifts away for a moment, and then he hears the cap of the lube opening and closing. “I wanted to make this last,” Hannibal sighs. “I have absolutely no self-control with you.”

Will mewls as his slickened fingers ease back inside, gently stretching him and sweeping occasionally against that spot inside of him. Every time his fingers brush against it, it feels like a detonated pulse-point of pleasure that rolls through his body. Will rocks against his fingers, arching his back to take them deeper, and Hannibal groans. “You are so unbelievably beautiful,” he sighs, pressing damp kisses to the small of Will’s back. “Do you feel what you do to me?” Hannibal asks.

Will is so absorbed in his own pleasure that he isn’t really paying much attention to Hannibal’s own. He lets his gift open, and what he feels almost makes him come against the sheets. The devotion he feels from him as well as the incredible gratification he’s getting from pleasuring Will are both suffocating. Will gasps through it, nodding his head. “I feel you, Hannibal,” he says breathily. “Oh, _God_ , I feel you.”

“What do you feel?” Hannibal asks softly while easing another finger inside of him, stretching him deliciously.

“Fuck,” Will gasps, dropping his hips quickly enough that Hannibal’s fingers slide inside of him a little more. “ _Devotion_ ,” he sighs. “Pleasure, gratification. It…” he moans as Hannibal rubs purposefully at that spot inside of him, making Will’s thighs shake with pleasure. “It pleases you to make me feel this way,” he manages to grit out.

“And why is that?” Hannibal says absently while stretching him open. “Why does it please me, Will?”

Will fucks himself onto his fingers, gripping the sheets in his sweaty hands. “Because my pleasure is yours,” he gasps. “You fucking _adore_ me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he says lowly. “I adore you. I worship at the altar of you. You feel that, don’t you?”

“Oh fuck,” Will sighs. “Please. _Hannibal_ ,” he moans while his hips work themselves on Hannibal’s fingers. 

They’re withdrawn quickly, and Will keens. “Remember how I feel about you in this moment,” Hannibal says while pressing the blunt head of his cock against Will’s ass. “No matter what, never doubt how I feel about you.”

Will moans as Hannibal presses inside, easing himself slowly. Will adjusts his knees on the mattress, easing himself over Hannibal’s cock until he’s as deep as he can go. Their position makes it feel like Hannibal is in his stomach, he’s so fucking full of him. 

Hannibal gives him a few minutes to adjust, and Will has just about had it. “Fuck me, Hannibal,” he groans, snapping his hips back against him pointedly. “I won’t break.” He feels a sickening amount of hesitancy from the other man, and Will growls at him. “ _Hannibal_.”

 _Fear_. The emotion is startling in the warmth of their coupling. What he’s feeling is fear on Hannibal. “Will,” Hannibal sighs, easing back into him gently. “I… I can’t hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Will assures him with a gasp as his prostate is gently nudged. “Please. Come on.”

He feels the last bits of hesitation crumble before Hannibal begins fucking him. His hips snap against Will’s ass, the brutality of it exactly what Will asked him for. “Fuck!” Will cries out as he’s nudged up the bed by the hard thrust of his hips. Will grips the expensive headboard, bracing himself against it so he can feel Hannibal fully.

His hips feel like a fucking jackhammer against Will’s body. Each thrust slams into his prostate, and Will can barely pull in a breath. The force of it is enough that he can feel his ass jiggling with each snap of Hannibal’s hips, his arms aching as he keeps his body from moving away from it. He’s going to feel Hannibal for fucking _days_ after this, and he’s outrageously turned on by the idea of it.

“Is this what you wanted?” Hannibal asks. His voice stutters with every hard drive of his hips, and Will moans.

“ _Yes_ ,” he whimpers, tugging himself up with the headboard as Hannibal slams into him. His fingers are gripping Will’s hips tightly, tugging him backward each time he fucks back in. “Oh God, yes.”

“You are _mine_ ,” Hannibal says, driving the point home by drilling Will with hard, deep thrusts. His pace is relentless, and Will has to remind himself to breathe through it so he doesn’t pass out.

One of Hannibal’s hands leaves his hip, sliding up his back to grip the nape of his neck. He uses the leverage to jerk Will backwards against his body with each hard thrust, and Will bounces against him, his balls drawn tight against his body in his desire to come.

Hannibal eases himself against Will’s back, his chest flush against him while his cock jackhammers his prostate. Will tips his head back against Hannibal’s shoulder, spreading his thighs a little more to urge him just a bit deeper.

His orgasm is torn from him, and he bellows out, his cry loud and long as Hannibal continues fucking into him through it. Every strike of his prostate after he comes feels like he wants to jerk away, but he can’t. Not with how his partner is holding him close. “Oh, Will,” he gasps. It’s only another moment and then Hannibal is coming, his cock pulsing inside of Will’s body.

Will rests his cheek against the headboard, pulling in much needed air while the sweat cools on his skin. Hannibal stays inside of him, pressing kisses to the nape of his neck. “I hurt you, didn’t I?” he asks softly.

Will shakes his head, relaxing his arms from their death grip on the headboard. He rests his full weight against Hannibal’s back, easing himself back into his lap. Hannibal grips his hips, groaning as his softening cock is pressed deeper inside of Will as a result. “You didn’t,” Will assures him, and his voice sounds raw and exhausted. “Hannibal, that was… oh wow. So good.”

Hannibal eases an arm around his waist, tugging him back so that they can relax onto the pillows. He pulls himself from Will’s body gently, pressing kisses to his shoulder as he checks to make sure that Will isn’t bleeding. “Will I live?” Will asks with a tired laugh.

“You aren’t bleeding,” he says thankfully. “You’ll be very sore tomorrow, though.”

“Hannibal,” Will sighs. “Come here, please.”

His partner rests against his side, sweeping his fingers through the curls on Will’s forehead. His amber eyes hold a note of concern in them, their intensity pulling the air from Will’s lungs. “You didn’t hurt me,” Will says sternly, rubbing his thumb against the crease between Hannibal’s eyebrows. “You didn’t do anything to me that I haven’t done to you. Did I hurt you that night I was… uh, rough?”

Hannibal shakes his head against the pillow, his dark hair spilling over his forehead. Will sweeps it back, gliding his fingers through the silky strands. “It’s different for me,” he says softly. “I’ve told you that I can… lose myself, on occasion. I never want to lose myself when I’m intimate with you.”

“Do you think you’re capable of hurting me?” Will asks softly. Hannibal looks devastated that he’d even ask, and Will touches his cheek to get his attention. “When are you going to tell me about whatever it is that pulls you away from me sometimes?”

“There is darkness in me,” Hannibal says hesitantly, and he licks his lips as he glances away. “Darkness that I never want to spill over the light that you bring into my life.”

Will hesitates at that, as it’s not a direct answer in the least, but Will gets the idea of what he’s trying to say anyway. “I’ve felt it,” Will admits to him softly. Hannibal’s fingers slide gently along his spine, and Will shivers from the touch. “There have been times where we’ve been… intimate. I’ve felt this… curl of possessive darkness in you. You think I don’t understand that? I do, Hannibal. I feel it with you. I have the same kind of darkness in me.”

“Do you ever worry that you’d hurt me because of it?” Hannibal wonders. His eyes search Will’s face. “Do you ever forget yourself when we’re together and worry that you’ll hurt me?”

Will swallows, taking a moment to think about that. “I don’t, but… not because I don’t think I could. I just know that whatever I do, you won’t be offended or repulsed. I know that no matter how rough I am, you’ll welcome it. I want you to know that goes both ways.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” Hannibal sighs. “Someday you might, but until then I will take caution with you.”

Will bites his lip, glancing away from him while he blushes to his hairline. “Are you a… dominant?” 

Hannibal lets out a huff of laughter, looking at Will in surprise. “A dominant? Perhaps in some ways, but not in the way that you’re thinking.”

“I’m just trying to understand,” Will says awkwardly. “I want to know if you’re holding back from me because… I don’t know, you’d like to tie me up? Hit me? I have no fucking idea.”

“The thought of either has absolutely no appeal to me whatsoever,” Hannibal assures him. “Will, I am satisfied with you. I just… forget myself when we are intimate, sometimes. You provoke feelings that, well, are unpredictable. I enjoyed tonight, and I’d do it again. I just don’t relish the thought of hurting you. Not even a bit.”

“Then I’d like you to take into consideration that I’d tell you, Hannibal,” Will says sternly. “If you are hurting me, or if you’re doing something that I’m not into, I’ll tell you. I’d never let you do anything that I’m not comfortable with. Unless I say otherwise, do as you please. You want me rough? Go for it. I don’t feel the slightest bit of self-consciousness asking you for anything, and I don’t want you to, either.”

“You’re precious to me,” Hannibal admits softly, his eyes downcast to Will’s chest. “I’ve never wanted someone like this. It’s like walking the edge of a blade with you. I want to tear you apart and keep you safe at the same time. I never know what to do, and I don’t trust my instincts enough to decide.”

“You just summed up how I feel about you in perfect clarity,” Will laughs. “Sometimes I want to pound you into the mattress so hard that I know you’ll feel me for days. Most times I want to hug you against my chest and feel your heartbeat against my own. It’s… intense. I’ve never dealt with this either. We’ll figure it out, though.”

“The last person to hug me was my sister,” Hannibal says, and his voice is so quiet that Will strains to hear him. “No one has hugged me in a very long time.”

“Until me,” Will replies, reaching out to stroke his fingers across his sharp cheekbone. “You’re going to have to get used to it, because I love it.”

“I’m not… huggable, Will,” he says with a regretful twist of his mouth. 

Will sits up, easing himself around Hannibal awkwardly. He wraps him in his arms, and Hannibal smiles against his throat while holding Will gently around his waist. “I beg to differ,” Will replies.

Will doesn’t even remember falling asleep, but he must have judging by the very early morning sunlight streaming through Hannibal’s bedroom window. He’s sprawled across Hannibal’s chest, his face pressed against his sternum. Will grins sleepily, tipping his face against him so he can press a kiss over his heart.

His fingers wander all the muscle of his abdomen, tracing them idly before teasing a nipple to stiffness. Will leans up gently, staring down at the placid face of his sleeping man with a smile on his lips. Hannibal is gorgeous when awake, but he’s beautiful when he’s sleeping, too. All the tension in his face is relaxed, his soft mouth parted, his dark hair mussed against the pillow. His dark eyelashes are splayed against his sharp cheekbones, and Will bites his lip as he leans forward, pressing kisses to his jaw, then his cheek.

Hannibal smiles softly but doesn’t open his eyes, and Will lets out a bubble of laughter while he kisses his eyelids, then his mouth. 

With no warning at all, Hannibal grabs at him and Will squeaks in surprise, laughing while Hannibal rolls them until Will is under him. Hannibal kisses him soundly before trailing his mouth down the column of Will’s throat, holding him tight in his arms. “How long have you been awake?” Will asks with a laugh.

“Long enough to know that you enjoy touching my nipples when you think I’m sleeping,” Hannibal chuckles, touching Will’s jaw to tip his face up for another kiss. 

“I do _not_ ,” Will says indignantly, laughing brightly as Hannibal tweaks one of his nipples in revenge. “I was touching you, not just your damned nipples.”

“I can sleep through many things, beloved,” Hannibal laughs. “Someone rolling my nipple isn’t one of them.”

Will laughs, wrapping his legs around Hannibal’s waist as he tugs him down for another kiss. “We’re not leaving this bed today,” he says between kisses, and Hannibal laughs. “Maybe just to let the dogs out and feed them, but otherwise…”

Their kissing turns heated, and Will moans against his mouth as Hannibal grips them both in his palm, working them both with his hand. 

It doesn’t take long before they’re thrusting into the grip, devouring one another’s mouths as they come apart. They’re gasping in the sheets, flushed and grinning. “Your bed is probably ruined at this point,” Will laughs.

“It smells potent in here,” Hannibal agrees with a laugh, leaning down to kiss him again. “A shower is in order, then we should go take care of Buster and Winston.”

Aside from taking care of the dogs and having a shower, it really is the laziest Saturday that Will can remember having. Hannibal makes them breakfast after their shower, and Will takes his dogs for a walk after feeding them homemade food that Hannibal made them the day before.

They end up back in bed, but not specifically for sex. They’re just… cuddling. It’s the most intensely intimate thing that Will thinks either of them may have ever done, because they both seem shocked by it.

Gentle touches. Soft kisses. Playful banter.

Will is completely in love with him, and it’s eating away his insides every moment he doesn’t say it.

So he shows it, instead.

They don’t bother to get out of bed until after four, after they’ve absolutely desecrated Hannibal’s expensive sheets. The entire room smells of sex and sweat, and Hannibal laughs as they stare down at the mess they’ve made.

They strip the bed and head back into the bathroom to take another shower before Hannibal heads downstairs to make them something for dinner. Will joins him in the kitchen, chopping whatever vegetables that Hannibal sets down in front of his cutting board.

“I want to revisit the conversation that we had about you moving in,” Will says suddenly as they sit down to eat.

Hannibal pauses as he brings his wine to his mouth, glancing at Will in surprise. “I thought you said you weren’t ready for that.”

“I know what I said,” Will sighs. “I just… I know I hate when you leave. I hate not having you with me. The thought alone of leaving tonight...” Will blushes. “I want to come home to you. I want you to sleep in our bed. I want the stupid little room next to my bedroom to be full of your clothes. I want you with me, Hannibal.”

Hannibal sips his wine, placing the glass down gently as he stares at Will’s face. “I want that, too. Perhaps we’ll give it a few weeks? I want you to know for certain, Will.”

Will nods, biting his lip as he glances down at his dinner. “Of course, yeah.”

“Will?” Hannibal says softly. “I want to. A few more weeks, that’s all I ask. Before I put my house for sale, I’d ask you to stay here while we update the kitchen in your house and make the upgrades I’ve discussed with you. It would be a big change for both of us, and I want us both to be certain before we make a rash decision. I don’t want to lose you because you feel suffocated.”

“After Christmas,” Will offers hesitantly. It was six weeks away, and he figures that would be a good landmark for deciding something major. “If we both still want it, then we’ll start making arrangements after Christmas. I’d be on winter break from classes, and it would give me time to move in here while you do… whatever you’re doing to my house.”

“Reasonable,” Hannibal agrees after a bite of his pork loin. “Do you do anything special for Christmas?”

Will shakes his head. “I used to with Molly, but… not really.”

“I usually have a dinner party on Christmas eve,” Hannibal tells him, and Will grimaces at the thought. “I was thinking this year we could have something smaller. The people from your work, Bedelia, perhaps the Komeda’s.”

“That’s still like ten people,” Will laughs. “But yeah. Maybe. I don’t know if they make plans with their family for Christmas. We can have the usual people that you invite, Hannibal. I will be here with you no matter. Do you do anything for Thanksgiving?”

Hannibal shakes his head. “Not usually. I’ve never celebrated the holiday.”

“I guess you wouldn’t,” Will shrugs. “It’s not something I’ve usually celebrated either. Molly used to do something, but… it was all her family that came to the house. I don’t need to tell you how unpleasant that was.”

“You’re off from work though. I don’t schedule patients on that Thursday or Friday. Perhaps you and I can have something small, spend the weekend together? I find myself thankful this year, and spending time with the one I’m thankful for seems appropriate.”

Will blushes at that, leaning forward to press a kiss to Hannibal’s cheek. “I’d like that.”

Hannibal touches Will’s jaw as he pulls away from the kiss, tugging him back in for another. “I won’t be seeing you now until the opera Saturday night,” Hannibal says between kisses. “I had to reschedule all my Monday appointments because of the convention, so I have a very full week ahead of me.”

“Well that sucks,” Will sulks, kissing him back just as eagerly. “I would say I can come by Friday night, but… I have a few errands to run after work, and I… well, I have to pick up my suit.”

“Your suit?” Hannibal asks with a raised eyebrow. “Is it rented?”

“Maybe,” Will teases him with a grin. “I’ll look every inch like I belong at your side, okay? I’ll meet you here Saturday to get ready with you.”

“Almost a week from now,” Hannibal says miserably. 

Will kisses him again, touching his cheek gently. “If you find you have spare time, call me. I’d make the trip to see you, darlin’.”

“You know that I will,” Hannibal smiles, kissing him again.

He leaves sometimes after ten, as he doesn’t have much to do the next day. Winston whines at the porch as they walk away, tugging gently on his leash to go back to Hannibal whose standing on the porch watching them leave. It breaks Will’s heart in every way that it can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Hannibal said in Lithuanian, even though I feel like at this point, we all can read it haha
> 
> "My heart. I love you. You are mine. I am yours."
> 
> Thank you all for your comments and kind words. My GOD they're so appreciated. This tiny little idea became THIS massive fic, and I am so pleased that it's bringing anyone some joy in these miserable, dark, times. <333


	24. Chapter 24

He spends his Sunday by his stream until the weather turns, a light freezing rain making it impossible to stay outside anymore. He catches a single trout, and it’s good enough that he decides it’ll be his dinner that night.

By Sunday night, he’s cleaned his house, made fish for dinner, packed his lunch for the next day, and graded all the essays he’s neglected over the weekend. Will reaches for his phone, dialing Hannibal’s number before he has time to really think about it.

It rings a few times before Hannibal answers, and the noise in the background lets Will know that he’s out somewhere. “Beloved,” he greets lovingly. “I was just talking about you.”

“Were you?” Will asks while petting Buster who’s snoring on the couch beside his hip. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have called if I knew you were busy.”

“I’ve run into a few colleagues of mine in the hotel lobby,” Hannibal replies, and he hears a woman laugh nearby. “We went to dinner together, and now we’re having a few drinks.”

“I’ll let you go then,” Will says awkwardly. 

“Don’t hang up,” Hannibal sighs. “I’ve been missing you.”

“ _Have_ you,” Will says blandly. There’s a little sliver of jealousy working up his spine, and he knows it’s completely ridiculous even as he acknowledges it. “You sound like you’re having a nice time, so I’m letting you go, now.”

“Will,” Hannibal says softly. “While your jealousy can be endearing, it’s completely unwarranted.”

“I know,” Will sighs, scrubbing a hand across his face. “I just wanted to hear your voice. Say goodnight to you.”

“I’m glad you called,” Hannibal purrs, his voice low and lilting. “I really have been missing you. My colleagues know all about you, and I was bereft when I realized I had no acceptable photos to show them of you.”

“There will be photos after this weekend,” Will reminds him while blushing at the thought. Paparazzi taking his photo, while on the arm of the most eligible bachelor in Baltimore. What a turn his life has taken. “We can take a picture together at some point so you can show me off to your pompous friends.”

Hannibal laughs, and the sound is so warm and rich in his ear that Will finds himself smiling in response. “I’d like that, Will. Good night, _tesoro._ ”

“Treasure?” Will asks with a laugh. He’s been called many things in his life, but a treasure wasn’t one of them.

“You know what I said,” Hannibal muses with an embarrassed chuckle. 

“The word is similar in French,” Will reminds him, biting his lip while he blushes. “ _Bonne nuit, mon amour_.”

Hannibal is silent for a few moments, and Will regrets calling him his love the moment it’s out of his mouth. “ _Âme soeur_ ,” Hannibal says softly, and Will blushes.

Soulmate. Will swallows thickly, holding the phone tightly to his ear. “ _Oui_ ,” he agrees. “Hannibal?”

“Yes, beloved?”

“Please find some time for me this week,” he says softly.

“I had already planned to,” Hannibal chuckles. “See you soon, Will.”

“Goodnight,” he sighs before hanging up.

Monday and Tuesday come and go, the only thing that stands out being Will’s fitting on Tuesday night. 

His suit is basically finished, only the smallest adjustments that need to be made for his final fitting on Thursday. It’s the nicest thing he’s ever owned, and he already knows that Hannibal will be stunned when he sees him.

He makes an appointment for a haircut the next night, and he also stops off at Macy’s for a new aftershave. He genuinely doesn’t know what scents are better than others, so he instead chooses something that he likes. Georgio Armani’s Aqua di Gio smells the best out of every offensive thing the saleswoman forces him to smell, and he cringes while cashing out. 

As he’s driving home through downtown Baltimore, he notices a homemade ice cream shop, and he stops in on a whim. 

Espresso ice cream. From scratch. He doesn’t know if it’ll be as good as the one that Hannibal had in Boston, but he buys a pint of it anyway before heading home. After tucking the pint into his freezer, he grades papers and makes his dogs a new pan of dog food before heading to bed.

Wednesday rolls around, and his appointment with Alana goes exactly as he suspected. She still doesn’t give him permission to do field work, and at this point he’s certain she’s just fucking with him. “I don’t know what you want to hear,” he says to her once she’s told him that she wants another week of him away from field work. “At this point, it feels personal.”

“Personal?” she asks indignantly. “Will, I am keeping you from having a mental breakdown. You are still on edge. There’s still something… _off_. Three weeks is a perfectly normal amount of time to be removed from field work after an incident like this. If you’ve spoken to Beverly about her own, you know that.”

“Next week will be a month,” Will says bitterly. “They found another victim with his intestines removed, traces of lye in the body cavity. That makes two, Alana. I could be helping them, but instead I’m… I’m useless! Sidelined.”

“For your own good,” she says slowly while tapping her pen against her leather notepad. “Will, I know this is frustrating. I know it. Please believe that I’m doing this for your own good.”

“Right,” Will says sharply, making his way towards the door. “See you again next week, then.”

Beverly catches him on his way to his office, and she whistles when she notices the expression on his face. “Still not cleared, huh?”

“No,” Will spits out, slamming his office door open where she follows him in. “I have no fucking idea what she wants from me, and at this point I’m about to ask for a referral to get cleared.”

“I don’t think Jack would do that,” Bev replies with a shrug. “How about… you come to my house tonight for pizza and beer? Jimmy and Brian are coming by, you could invite Hannibal if you wanted to.”

“I’ve got to pass tonight,” Will sighs. “I’ve got a haircut after work, and then I’ve got to get home to my dogs.”

“Oh! A haircut, huh?” she says, smiling warmly while reaching out to tug on his wild curls. “That’s a shame. The curls are cute, Graham. The whole package is cute, but the _curls_ …” She pouts while twisting his hair in her fingers.

Will bats her hand away, laughing in spite of his annoyance from the morning he’s had. “Just a trim. I don’t want curls over the collar of my tux.”

“Leave the top a little longer,” she says, reaching out to touch his hair again. “They really do suit you, and I know Dr. Hotass will agree with me on that.”

“I’ll do that,” he laughs. 

“Are you shaving for the opera?” she wonders. 

“Yeah,” he nods, touching his three-day stubble absently. “Shaving clean for it, actually. Have an opinion on that too?”

“Just that I think it’s a good idea,” she shrugs. “Does he know that you’ve had a tux made yet?”

“Not yet. I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m renting one.”

“I wish we could put a camera on you when he sees you for the first time,” she laughs. “Jesus he already looks at you like you hung the stars for him.”

Will rolls his eyes, blushing as he glances down at his desk. “Any evidence on the second victim? The one with the intestines missing?”

She shakes her head. “Aside from knowing that both victims were strangled with what we’re assuming was piano wire, then gutted using the same knife, we don’t have any evidence. No fingerprints, no DNA, just that the cuts match both victims, and the wire used to strangle them matches. I wish we could get you to take a look, but… maybe next week.”

“Can you bring me the file?” Will asks hesitantly.

She gnaws her bottom lip, sighing as she crosses her arms. “Graham,” she says awkwardly. “I could get in deep shit if Jack finds out.”

“I know,” he sighs. “Forget I asked.”

“You know I would,” she says in a placating tone. “At least once a day we say we want you back on the team. Soon, Will. All will be right in the world.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, but I appreciate the sentiment,” Will laughs. “Shit, I’ve got to get to my class. We’ll get together soon though, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she smiles. “I expect a mirror selfie once you’re all glamorous. Don’t let me down.”

“I’ll try to remember,” he replies dryly.

The rest of his day goes by quickly, and after his haircut, he heads home. He took Bev’s advice, keeping the top a bit longer while trimming the back neatly so there wouldn’t be hair over the collar of his tux. It looks nice when he leaves the barber, and he hopes he can style it the same way come Saturday.

He hasn’t heard from Hannibal all week so far, and it upsets him a little more than he cares to admit. As he pulls into his driveway after six, any irritation he’s feeling goes up in smoke when he sees his Bentley parked by his house.

He smiles as he heads inside, the smell of delicious food and two happy dogs greeting him at the door. The sound of pans clinking against his stove brings him into the kitchen where his gorgeous man is cooking dinner. He’s dressed very comfortably in a green sweater and black slacks, and Will knows his smile is wide as he comes around the counter. “This is a surprise,” Will says, snatching hold of his waist to tug him close. 

Hannibal grins at him, setting the wooden spatula down on the spoon rest to tip Will’s face up for a kiss. The kiss is a desperate thing, all harsh lips and probing tongue, and Will moans into his mouth, gripping his narrow waist tighter against himself. Hannibal pulls away regretfully to glance at the pan, stepping away entirely to flip the chicken breasts that are sauteing. “My last appointment was canceled tonight. I wanted to surprise you, but it seems you’ve surprised me, instead. You cut your hair.”

Will blushes while Hannibal takes in his shorter locks, and he reaches up to touch the missing curls at the nape of his neck. “I want to look good for Saturday,” Will replies shyly.

“I loved the curls,” Hannibal sighs as he diddles with the pans on the stove. “But you kept most of them. It suits you, beloved.”

Will smiles, wrapping his arms around Hannibal’s waist while he cooks. “It’s nice to come home to you.”

“Your dogs were thrilled to see me,” Hannibal chuckles. “I walked in the door and greeted them, and Buster promptly urinated in sheer delight.”

Will laughs against his shoulder, pressing a kiss there as he steps away. “He does that sometimes. I usually get him outside the minute I open the door to avoid that.”

“Good to know for next time,” Hannibal muses, turning to Will with a playful expression. “Did Alana clear you today?”

“Not yet,” Will sighs, heading to his fridge for a beer. “Maybe next week, she said. How was your convention?”

“Boring,” Hannibal replies dryly. “Very long, and very tedious. This whole week has been a test of my patience.”

“Are you able to stay tonight?” Will asks.

“Yes,” Hannibal says while plating chicken, peppers, onions and Spanish rice. “I used the chicken you had in the fridge.”

“I see that,” Will laughs. “Thank you. You didn’t have to cook for me.”

“I enjoy it,” Hannibal assures him. 

They sit down at Will’s dining table to eat, and Will sips his beer while turning to Hannibal. He lets his eyes wander over him for a minute, taking in his sharp features appreciatively before speaking. “Who did you run into at the convention?”

“A few people I haven’t seen since I attended Johns Hopkins,” Hannibal says slowly. “Bedelia was there.”

Will drops his fork in his plate, finishing the bite of perfect chicken in his mouth before responding. “Bedelia was there,” he repeats bitterly. “Did you know she was going?”

“I didn’t,” Hannibal replies, cutting a sliver of chicken breast delicately. “I told her I was planning to attend when I went to lunch with her last week, and she took it upon herself to attend as well. She made her intentions known this weekend, and I explained to her that I was not interested.”

“Made her intentions known? Explain that a little more, please.” 

Hannibal sets his fork down, looking up at Will affectionately. “She asked if you and I were serious after I got off the phone with you, and I told her that we are. She then told me that she’s cared about me for years, and that she hoped I felt similarly, and I told her that I do not. It was just as simple as that.”

“Is anyone _not_ in love with you?” Will asks bitterly. “Jesus, you can have anyone apparently.”

“There is only one that I want,” Hannibal says softly, reaching out to stroke Will’s cheek affectionately. “And I have him already. I’ve already decided to step away from my friendship with Bedelia for a while, as it’s unfair to give her hope where there is none.”

Will sips his beer, silently fuming and not really understanding why. Hannibal has been honest with all of it, and he’s not hiding it from him. “I’m pissed off and I don’t know why,” Will sighs. 

“You were in a relationship for two years with a woman whom you knew was in love with someone else,” Hannibal replies while Will cringes. “You’ve been conditioned to believe that whatever relationship you’re in, the other person is consistently looking for someone better. I understand that, and I will always be transparent with you when things like this happen. Someday you’ll understand that you are everything I want, and that there is no one who is a better fit for me than you are. Until then, I’ll remind you every day if I must.”

“How exhausting for you, Dr. Lecter,” Will says resentfully. He despises being psychoanalyzed, and he despises that it’s his partner who’s doing it, regardless of how truthful what he’s said may be. 

“Forgive me for reading into that more than I should have,” Hannibal says softly, touching the back of Will’s hand. 

“Hazard of the trade, I guess,” Will sighs. “Thank you for… telling me about it.”

They eat in silence for a few minutes before Hannibal looks back to him. “So, you cut your hair for Saturday,” he says with a little smile on his face. 

“I did,” Will agrees, his cheeks heating a bit. “I also got new aftershave and cologne.”

Hannibal leans forward in his seat, tugging Will closer by cupping his jaw in his hand. Will leans into him, his breath caught in his throat while Hannibal nuzzles his jawline with his nose. “I don’t smell anything different,” he notes, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his jaw before pulling away.

“I’m not wearing it yet,” Will admits softly, reaching out to catch Hannibal by the nape of his neck to drag him back for another kiss. Hannibal smiles against his mouth, his tongue gently sweeping against Will’s own before pulling away again. “Although I should, it smells pretty good.”

Hannibal leans forward and nuzzles him again, and Will does his best not to melt into it. “You smell sweet just as you are,” Hannibal says softly, brushing his lips against Will’s neck. “So sweet.”

“I got us dessert,” Will says distractedly, and Hannibal chuckles against the nape of his neck.

“Did you? What is it that’s better than the dessert I’m having currently?”

“Christ,” Will sighs, tipping his head back to give him more room to do as he pleases. “Uh, well. It’s a surprise.”

Hannibal leans away, his eyes smoldering. “Let’s clean up, and then we can have dessert.”

They do the dishes quickly, Will washing while Hannibal dries and puts them away. “Go relax on the couch, I’ll get our dessert ready.”

Hannibal arches an eyebrow at him, but thankfully doesn’t argue. Will takes out the pint of ice cream from his freezer and a single spoon. Maybe dessert could be a prelude to something a little more.

He takes the lid off the pint, carrying it into the living room where Hannibal is settled on the couch petting Buster. “Ice cream?” he says with a little grin. 

“Yeah,” Will bites his lip, nudging Hannibal back against the couch so he can straddle his waist. Hannibal looks immensely pleased by the seating arrangement, and Will grins as Hannibal leans forward to see what kind of ice cream it is. “I went downtown to a homemade ice cream shop. They had espresso ice cream. Before you get excited, I have no idea if it’s good or not,” he laughs.

Hannibal eases his palms up Will’s thighs, gripping them to tug him closer. “You found me espresso ice cream,” he says, smiling up at Will so softly that it takes all of his self-control not to maul him. “So very thoughtful, beloved.”

“Like I said,” Will laughs as Hannibal grips his ass to tug him closer still. “It might not be good. I’ve never had bad ice cream, but… my palate isn’t as refined as yours.”

Will drags the spoon through the ice cream, gathering up a bit before holding it out for Hannibal to taste. He leans forward, maintaining intense eye-contact while taking the spoon in his mouth, his eyes closing as it melts on his tongue. He hums, rolling the flavor on his tongue before opening his eyes again. “It’s better than in Boston,” he says softly.

“Really?” Will asks, smiling widely. He drags the spoon through the pint again, this time for himself, and he arches his eyebrows in surprise. It was fucking delicious. It tasted like good strong coffee, sweet and deliciously bitter at the same time. “Oh wow. I don’t know if we’re getting much sleep after this,” Will laughs. “There’s strong coffee in here.”

Will feeds him another bite, and Hannibal leans forward the moment the ice cream is melting on his tongue to tug Will down for a kiss. His tongue is ice cold and sweet, the flavor of Hannibal buried just underneath. Will moans against him, licking into his mouth deeply to savor the flavor of him with the confection greedily. He pulls away with a laugh, licking his lips. “I bought you ice cream to enjoy it,” he scolds mildly.

“I am enjoying it,” Hannibal assures him, gripping Will’s ass in his strong hands. “Immensely.”

Will takes another spoonful for himself before getting another bite for Hannibal, who takes the spoon in his mouth slowly, savoring it in a way that makes Will pulse in his slacks. “Do you have to make everything you do so fucking alluring?” Will laughs.

“I’ll admit to attempting to lure you in this instance,” Hannibal says with a filthy little smirk. “Put it back in the freezer for later, please.”

Will gives him one more bite, and Hannibal smirks around the spoon before Will gets off his lap to put it back in the freezer. Will comes back immediately, settling back out on Hannibal’s lap and wrapping his arms around his neck. “So you were telling people about me, huh?”

“Yes,” Hannibal replies, his hands stroking along Will’s back soothingly. “I wanted to see you last night, but… a patient of mine had a crisis. I had to make an impromptu visit that took up my evening.”

“Why does this sound like cheese folk and kneecaps to me?” Will grins while leaning forward to scent Hannibal’s cologne at his neck. 

“It was,” he sighs. “Their relationship may be over, and… Franklyn is taking it rather poorly.”

“Tobias broke up with Franklyn?” Will asks before biting his lip. “Sorry, I shouldn’t ask.”

“It’s more that Tobias has been… absent. He’s not been coming to therapy, and from what I understand, he’s been absent from their home most nights as well. Franklyn believes he’s seeing someone else, but… I have my reservations about such a possibility.”

“I feel bad,” Will says eventually while stroking the soft skin at the nape of Hannibal’s neck. “Franklyn is… weird, sure. He can’t help it, though.”

“You’ve a kind heart,” Hannibal says softly, gliding his fingers under Will’s sweater to touch the skin of his back. 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Will laughs. “I empathize with people. Especially the strange ones that are only trying to find connection with someone else. An argument could be made that I understand it intimately.”

“It stuns me that I am the first to see your worth,” Hannibal says absently, his fingers still stroking along Will’s back. “There is nothing about you that is strange to me. You’re a gift, Will. Rare and beautiful in your perfection.”

Will blushes, dipping his chin to hide from the intensity of Hannibal’s gaze. “You are enamored,” Will replies accusingly, but affectionately. “Your opinion might be biased.”

“Perhaps,” Hannibal agrees, his smile warm as he tips Will’s face back up with his thumb. “But I feel no less grateful to have earned your affection in return.”

“I wonder what your friends think,” Will teases, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to his sharp cheekbone. “Such a stern, solitary man suddenly so sweet and smitten.”

“I care very little for what they think,” Hannibal replies, his eyes crinkling with a smile. Hannibal removes one hand from under his shirt, trailing it up to drag his thumb across Will’s bottom lip. “Though I do hope they have a shred of envy. I’m very lucky, after all.”

Will blushes at that, weaving his fingers into the soft hair at the nape of Hannibal’s neck. He leans in and kisses him, and his partner returns it softly. He still tastes faintly of strong coffee, and Will licks into his mouth, savoring him. “It’s been a while since I’ve been inside of you,” Will says softly. 

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Hannibal grins, leaning forward to nip at Will’s bottom lip affectionately. “Were you sore this week?”

Will rolls his eyes. “I was… slightly uncomfortable on Monday. I didn’t mind that so much, it just made me think of you.”

“Is it crude to admit that the thought of you thinking of me in that way while giving a lecture pleases me?” Hannibal chuckles. 

“A little, if you think about the subject matter on which I’m lecturing,” Will says with an awkward laugh. “Nothing quite like giving a lecture on suck bruises and biting while squirming in your seat, thinking of your partner.”

“Hadn’t thought of that,” Hannibal replies with a grimace. “Although I have given you a fair share of suck bruises.”

“A hickey,” Will says with a laugh. “Please don’t call it a suck bruise.”

Will leans back from him, trailing his hands down his firm chest. He takes Hannibal’s hand in his, reminiscent of all those pseudo-handshakes they used to have when they first met. Hannibal grins, smoothing his thumb against his wrist. “Did our handshakes back when we first met affect you the way they affected me?”

Hannibal smiles at that, biting his lip as he looks down at their entwined fingers. “I recognized how momentous it was for you to instigate contact in such a way,” he admits with a small smile. He brings their joined hands to his mouth, pressing kisses to the knuckles of Will’s hand softly. “I came to look forward to the chaste contact, as I thought anything more was never going to happen. I’ve never been more pleased to be wrong in my entire life.”

“The night that I… touched myself while thinking of you,” Will says softly, embarrassment coloring his tone. “I had a fleeting thought that the hand I used was the same one that touched you. It was intense.”

Hannibal’s cheeks go pink while his tongue traces his bottom lip. It’s so ridiculously enticing that Will leans forward to capture that mouth in a kiss, and he feels Hannibal smile through it. Will pulls away and Hannibal chases after his mouth, lacing his fingers through the hair at the nape of Will’s neck to drag him back. Their mouths meet, and Will sighs against him, resting his full weight on Hannibal’s chest.

Will pulls away again, their mouths flushed as pink as their cheeks. “Let’s get your dogs outside for a bit before we go to bed.”

“Best idea I’ve heard in a while,” Will grins.

Will reluctantly climbs from his lap to get his dogs outside while Hannibal refills their water dish before heading upstairs. Once his dogs have each relieved themselves, he goes out on the porch to call them back in before turning off the lights and locking the door.

He heads upstairs to the bathroom first, brushing his teeth and washing his face before heading into the bedroom.

Hannibal is standing by the bed in his boxers, turning the sheets down. Will strips down to his own boxers while Hannibal settles into the sheets, watching Will with a little smile on his mouth. “Take everything off, Will,” his partner says softly, leaning up on his elbow to watch Will undress.

Will blushes a bit at the attention while sliding his thumbs under the band of his boxers to slip them down his thighs. Will watches Hannibal wiggle in the bed, his hand popping out from under the blankets to drop his own underwear on the floor. Will laughs, peeling back the covers to slide up against Hannibal’s body.

“You’re cold,” Hannibal shivers, rubbing his hands down Will’s arms and back to warm him back up.

“I didn’t get my coat to go outside and get the dogs,” Will says with a laugh while he presses his cold fingers against Hannibal’s sides. Hannibal groans while Will tortures him with icy fingers, taking them and tucking them between his warm hands. “I probably should have; it’s below freezing outside.”

“Perhaps I should have told you to put more clothes on instead of persuading you to disrobe entirely,” Hannibal chuckles. 

“Perhaps you should warm me up,” Will grins while easing his body over Hannibal’s own like a chilly blanket. Hannibal shivers, running his hands down Will’s back briskly to get the blood flowing. Will stretches over him, mouthing gently at his jaw while his slightly warmer hands roam the hot expanse of Hannibal’s chest. Hannibal’s thighs spread, allowing Will to slide between those long legs. They ease around his waist, squeezing him around his hips as Hannibal crosses his ankles behind him. “I fucking adore these legs,” Will sighs, running his palms up the expanse of his thighs.

“You’ve said as much,” Hannibal grins, tugging Will’s mouth towards his own in a claiming kiss. Will licks into his mouth, gripping Hannibal’s thighs in his palms while grinding down gently against him, each letting out a little moan at the contact. 

Will reaches for the lube on the side table, setting it by their hips. “I’d like to try something,” Will says softly, kissing his way down Hannibal’s throat. 

“Anything, beloved,” Hannibal sighs, stretching softly against the mattress. 

Will climbs from the bed, and Hannibal makes a little noise of protest before Will tugs his legs over, pulling him to the edge of that mattress. His delicious ass hangs from the side of the bed, and Will takes those long legs and wraps them around his waist to give him some leverage. “I want these legs around me,” he says softly while uncapping the lube to coat his fingers. “I want them on my shoulders while I’m buried inside of you.”

He rubs gently against Hannibal’s entrance, easing two fingers inside of him. “I feel like I’m going to fall from the bed,” Hannibal chuckles.

“You think I’d let you fall, darlin’?” Will asks with a grin. He stretches Hannibal by scissoring his fingers, easing his ring finger inside once he’s loosened enough. “Never.”

Will slicks his cock quickly before pressing the head against Hannibal’s rim, teasing him a bit by sliding the head over his entrance a few times. “Will,” he sighs, gripping the edge of the mattress with desperate fingers. He’s fucking gorgeous like this, Will realizes. With his ass hanging over the edge of the bed, he’s forced to use his abdominal muscles to keep himself from sliding off. They ripple and contract with the effort, his head tipped back as Will eases inside of him.

Will takes pity on him, adjusting his legs so that they rest over Will’s forearms. He cups Hannibal’s ass in his hands, spreading him wider as he bottoms out against him. Will inches closer, standing with his thighs against the edge of the bed while he gives Hannibal a moment to adjust, as this angle makes it feel like he’s ridiculously deep inside of him.

Hannibal is gasping on the bed, clutching Will between his long legs, “You feel… impossibly deep like this. It’s exquisite.”

Will presses in more, and Hannibal moans, arching his back wantonly. His cock lays thick against his abdomen, and it twitches as Will snaps his hips. He grips Hannibal’s ass in his hands, squeezing the flesh gently while spreading him wide open. He’s as deep as he can possibly ever be, and it’s the single most pleasurable thing Will has ever felt in his life. 

His thrusts are tiny, infinitesimal movements, but they’re so fucking deep that he knows that each shift is nudging Hannibal’s prostate squarely. Hannibal is a mess under him, his abdomen flexing as he gyrates himself against Will’s cock. “Will, _fuck_ ,” he gasps.

“Hannibal,” Will sighs. “You feel so fucking tight,” he gasps. His toes curl against the hardwood floors as he tries desperately not to come. With every clench of delicious abdominal muscle, Hannibal clamps around him like a vice, too. They’re barely moving at all, yet it’s the single most erotic thing Will has ever experienced.

Will thrusts shallowly, and Hannibal takes his cock in his hand, jerking himself slowly in time with Will’s pace. Hannibal is watching him, his eyes so intense and dark that Will almost has to look away. He doesn’t, because his partner is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life.

And he knows that Hannibal feels the same way about him, too. It seems almost impossible for that to be true, but Will can feel it. 

His soft mouth is parted, breathy little moans escaping with every movement that Will makes. Will watches him reach between them, cupping and rolling his balls before reaching to feel Will where their bodies meet.

“Hannibal,” Will gasps, his hips stuttering as his partner’s fingers caress his cock each time he slides out. Will grips his ass tighter in his hands, spreading him wider before pressing his pelvis tight against Hannibal’s body. Hannibal moans, gliding his hand up to roll his balls again before he wraps them back around his cock, jerking himself more quickly than before.

Will takes the hint, and his pace picks up as well. He’s already so close that pulses of pleasure are resonating through him, his balls drawn so tightly against his body that it almost hurts. Will snaps his hips as Hannibal comes over his own chest and fingers, his muscles clamping down around Will with each jerk of his cock.

He comes almost immediately after Hannibal, pulsing deep inside of him while gripping his hips so tightly he knows his partner will have bruises from it. Hannibal grips him between his thighs while he comes so hard his vision goes white, Hannibal’s filthy little chuckle like music to his ears.

Will slumps against him, pressing kisses to his abdomen and absently licking the come from his skin. “We just keep getting better at this,” Will laughs breathlessly.

Hannibal laces his fingers through Will’s damp curls, his other hand coming to rest over Will’s own on his stomach. “Practice certainly makes perfect.”

Will laughs, easing himself off his stomach carefully to look up at him. “Let me get us something to clean up.”

He pulls out from Hannibal gently before heading to the bathroom to dampen a towel with warm water before coming back. Hannibal is stretched on the bed still, his long legs dangling to the floor. Will grins at the sight of all that bronzed skin stretched out on his bed, wiping down his chest gently, then cleaning between his thighs. Hannibal doesn’t even move for it aside from spreading his legs a little wider, his eyes watching Will take care of him intently. “You’ve been intimate with a man in this position before?”

Will stills his cleaning, the cloth pressed against Hannibal’s entrance as Will flicks his eyes away. “Are we going to have a jealousy-inspired conversation about my past now?”

“I’m merely curious,” Hannibal says softly. 

“Doesn’t _sound_ like curiosity,” Will counters, tossing the dirty cloth to the floor before lifting Hannibal’s legs to throw them up on the bed. Will climbs over his prone form, settling out against the pillow on his side of the bed. Hannibal avoids eye contact with him while fluffing the blankets out over their hips. 

“I suppose your avoidance in answering the question is an answer,” he says eventually, his jaw clenched while staring up at the ceiling.

Will sighs, shifting closer to Hannibal to glide his hand over his chest. He feels the steady beat of his heart under his palm and he closes his eyes for a moment while he basks in the feel of it. “I dated someone a long time ago,” Will says softly, trailing his fingers gently against his chest. “Elijah. I met him in college, he was a history major. He was… a really nice guy. I figured out a lot about myself with him, but… I didn’t love him. Our relationship ended when he told me he loved me, and I said thank you in response. He said that I was unable to love anyone, and… well, that was that. There have been exactly three men aside from you, but only one of them led to actual… uh, sex.”

“Two others aside from me and… Elijah?” Hannibal asks slowly, and Will shakes his head.

“He’s the only one, Hannibal,” Will replies softly. “Aside from you. The other two were just… uh…”

“I don’t require a visual,” Hannibal interjects, rubbing his face with his palm.

Will laughs at that, leaning up on his elbow so he can see his ridiculous partner’s face. “Do you realize how absurd you sound?” he asks, and he leans over to kiss him to take the sting out of the insult. “Whatever experience I have is like a drop in the bucket compared to yours. Besides that, no one of either gender that I’ve dated has ever meant as much to me as you do. Where is this coming from, Hannibal?” Will asks pointedly.

Hannibal manages to look contrite after a moment, turning towards Will with a little frown on his face. “I suppose it comes from the realization that no one has ever meant what you mean to me, either. I want to be your only, Will. Does that make you wary of me?”

“No,” Will smiles softly, inching his body closer so that he can wiggle his way under Hannibal’s arm to rest against his chest. “You might not be my first for everything, but…” he bites his lip, hiding his face against Hannibal’s chest.

“But?” Hannibal asks when it becomes apparent that Will isn’t keen on finishing his thought.

Will sighs, tipping his face up so that they can make eye contact. His empathy opens a bit, and he stares down at Hannibal intensely. “But I want you to be my last.”

Hannibal’s mouth parts gently, his eyes roaming Will’s face. Will is feeling relief from him, as well as a suffocating amount of devotion. His beautiful man isn’t repulsed by the thought in the least, and Will relaxes a bit. “I think I prefer that, too.”

Will nods once, leaning forward to press his mouth against the plush lips that are still parted in awe. Hannibal eases his fingers through Will’s curls, deepening the kiss softly, his tongue sweeping Will’s mouth reverently before pulling away. “Tell me you weren’t thinking of that the whole time I was inside of you,” Will pleads.

“Not the _whole_ time,” Hannibal says with a quirk of his lips. “I find myself… possessive of you. Jealousy is so foreign to me. Such an inconvenient emotion.”

“As inconvenient as a trap door on a canoe,” Will laughs, pressing another kiss to his cheek. Hannibal chuckles at that, his eyes warm with amusement at the intentional southern lilt in Will’s voice. “I can’t really give you grief about it, though. We’re both a little ridiculous in the jealousy department.”

“You’re dear to me,” Hannibal says softly, pressing a kiss to Will’s temple. “I’ve never worried over losing someone before you. It’s… exhausting.”

Will hums, his eyes drooping while he rests in the crook of his partner’s shoulder. “There was a point where the only thing you worried about regarding me was my ability to tear down your career.”

“I would lay waste to my career if it meant keeping you now,” Hannibal replies softly, and Will presses a kiss to his sternum. 

“You don’t need to worry about any of that,” Will replies drowsily. “I have no intention of leaving you, and I don’t expect any sacrifices. I want you just as you are now. I want you the way you’ll be in twenty years. I want you at my side when you’re even more fucking beautiful and distinguished with gray at your temples and laugh lines around your eyes. I just want you, Hannibal.”

He hears a rough swallow while Hannibal’s hand gently twirls the curls in his hair. “You have me, beloved. Now. Twenty years from now. As long as you want me.”

Will hums in agreement with that, his breathing heavy as he drifts. He’s not quite asleep, but teetering on the edge of it. Hannibal reaches over and clicks off the light on the end table, and Will burrows against him a little more, breathing in the scent of his skin under his nose. 

He’s almost out when Hannibal whispers softly against his temple. “ _T’es l’amour de ma vie._ ”

Will blinks his eyes open, trying his best to keep his breathing even. You are the love of my life. That’s what Hannibal just said to him when he thought Will was sleeping. 

He could respond. He could say literally anything at all to let him know that he was heard, and that Will feels the same. Nothing good has ever come from telling someone he loves them. He loved his mother and she left him. He couldn’t say it to Elijah, and he left. He told Molly he loved her, and well, look where that got him. 

Maybe with Hannibal it would be different. Hannibal loves him, and he’s just as withdrawn as Will is, perhaps even more-so. 

He stares out, his heart hammering in his chest as he replies. “ _Je t’aime de tout mon coeur._ ”

He hears Hannibal’s breath catch, and Will presses a kiss to his chest again. Hannibal’s arms come around him, tucking him fully against his body. Will wraps his arms around his waist, tugging him closer. 

Will falls asleep to Hannibal pressing gentle kisses to his temple, his long fingers woven through his hair.

When Will wakes up the next morning, he’s alone. The sun has barely risen, yet he hears Hannibal showering in the bathroom down the hall. He feels nervous as he lays in bed, recalling the dream-like moments right before he fell asleep. Hannibal told him that he was the love of his life, and Will told him that he loved him with all his heart.

He doesn’t regret saying it. Not in the least. 

He sort of just wishes they’d have said it when they could see one another’s faces. Confessions in the dark, in another language, feels trite for some reason.

Will plans to rectify that as soon as he lays eyes on his beautiful man.

He hears the water turn off, and Hannibal rustling around in the bathroom before heading downstairs. He climbs from the bed to gather clean clothes, then heads to the bathroom to take care of his own morning routine.

By the time he comes downstairs, Hannibal is pouring them both a coffee while his dogs eat the food that Hannibal has put out for them. Will takes the pro-offered cup from Hannibal’s hand before stepping into his arms to press a kiss to his mouth.

Hannibal smiles against his lips, his free hand touching Will’s hip as their lips glide gently. Will pulls away to put his cup down on the counter before taking Hannibal’s face in his palm to press another kiss to his mouth. “I meant what I said,” Will says softly, peppering his face with soft kisses. “I love you, Hannibal.”

His partner’s eyes are shimmering as they look down at him, and Will presses another kiss to his cheek for good measure. “You are the love of my life, Will. I love you so dearly.”

Hannibal sets his own mug down to gather Will in his arms, tucking their bodies close as their kissing turns heated. “Call out today,” Will says with a chuckle while Hannibal kisses down the column of his throat.

“Oh beloved,” he sighs against his neck. “You have no idea how much I wish that I could.”

Will sighs, leaning away to stroke the side of his smooth jaw with his fingers. “I know. I can’t call out, either. I don’t exactly have sick-time yet.” Will reaches for his coffee, sipping it before it gets cold, and Hannibal does the same.

“Are you still planning to meet me at my house on Saturday?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Will says after a sip of perfect coffee. “I’m going to bring my dogs to your house if that’s okay. If you’re not busy on Sunday, I could stay with you Saturday night?”

“Will,” Hannibal grins, leaning in to kiss him again. “Bring your dogs. Stay with me.”

“Okay,” Will says, closing his eyes while leaning in for another kiss. “I’ll be by in the early afternoon, then.”

Will takes his dogs outside for a bit while Hannibal makes them some eggs and bacon, each settling in to eat quickly before taking off for work. Hannibal seems reluctant to let him go in the driveway, kissing him so soundly that Will feels his toes curl in his shoes. He pulls away with a laugh, his cheeks tinged pink while Hannibal eases his mouth over, feeling the heat of them with his lips. “Saturday feels like miles away,” he muses, his long fingers tipping Will’s jaw so he can trail his mouth down the line of his throat.

Will swallows, and the action draws the attention of his lips. “Maybe waiting until after Christmas is stupid,” Will grins, and Hannibal chuckles against his Adam’s apple. 

“We’ll talk more about that this weekend, then,” Hannibal promises him. “I’ll see you Saturday.”

Will nods, watching him climb into his expensive car. Leaving for work honestly feels torturous.

His day isn’t bad, though. He has his leftover chicken in the breakroom at lunch, and Jimmy, Brian, and Bev join him. There’s been a third victim that’s been found with his intestines removed, but this time there are traces of sulfur dioxide as well as potassium hydroxide in the body cavity, and Jimmy seems to have an idea about what the killer is doing.

“Catgut string,” Jimmy says while eating his sandwich. “I think our killer is taking intestines to make strings out of them.”

“Musical instrument strings?” Will asks in disgust. “Is that a thing?”

Jimmy nods. “Usually they are made with sheep or goat intestines, but sometimes cattle. It’s an old methodology this guy is using, that’s for sure.”

“We looked into music shops that sell catgut string, but… none of them sell it officially. Every place we’ve called or gone to has told us that they could have it imported for us, but it’s not available in store,” Bev interjects, shaking her head while eating her cottage cheese.

“So instead,” Brian says miserably, “we’re going to be going door to door to visit all area music shops. Just to see if anyone is… suspicious. How that’s supposed to work out, I have no idea. For all we know, this guy might not even own or work at a shop like that. It could just be some weirdo who found a wiki article about how to make string.”

“Hopefully, I get cleared Wednesday,” Will says with a grimace. “I want to be helping with this.”

“We could use you, that’s for sure,” Jimmy agrees softly. 

The rest of the day goes by quickly, even though Will feels frustrated that he’s not helping with such a major case. He knows he’d be able to help, he just… doesn’t know how to get cleared to do it.

If Alana keeps fucking with him come Wednesday, he’d ask Jack to get him a referral.

He heads to Suitables after work for his final fitting, and his suit is absolutely perfect. The cut of the suit is molded to his body flawlessly, every dip and curve followed with the material almost like a second skin. The sleeves are perfect, the collar of his dress shirt is perfect. Will grins at himself in the mirror, turning his body to look at the way the material cups around his ass. The color shifts from deep indigo to navy to black, depending on the light. It’s exactly what Will wanted. “Kevin, I fucking owe you,” he chuckles.

Kevin beams at him, his hands clasped to keep himself in check. “It’s flawless, Will. I’ll have the suit pressed for you, and you can pick it up tomorrow. Dr. Lecter is going to be stunned by you.”

Kevin helps him out of the suit carefully, and then he heads home to his dogs.

Friday goes by at a snail’s pace, as Will is looking forward to this weekend, now. He picks up his suit and pays for it, taking the black garment bag carefully so as not to wrinkle it.

When he gets home, he laces the black dress shoes he’s purchased and digs his father’s sapphire cufflinks out from his dresser drawer. They’re the only piece of jewelry that he owns, aside from his father’s wedding ring, and they’re as old as the moon. They’re a little filthy from disuse, so Will cleans them carefully, shining the white gold of them to a gleam. The stones are glittery when he finishes cleaning them, and he already knows they’ll go flawlessly with his suit. 

He packs everything he’ll need for the next day into his shoulder bag, including his new cologne and aftershave. He makes another pan of dog food for his dogs, so Hannibal won’t have to cook for them, even though he knows Hannibal doesn’t mind doing it in the least.

He wakes early on Saturday morning, so he goes for a long jog after his morning coffee. When he gets back to the house, he tires his dogs out with a tennis ball in his front yard for a bit, as he feels badly that they’re going to be cooped up in a house all night.

After some toast with strawberry preserves that Hannibal made, Will finds himself feeling anxious. After tonight, he’d be publicly known as Hannibal Lecter’s new beau. Molly would see it. Freddie Lounds would see it.

The entirety of Baltimore that gives any shit at all about the social pages will know his face, and it just… gives him anxiety. There’s a tiny, vindictive part of him that’s secretly pleased that Molly will see it. She was so certain that Hannibal was using him, that their relationship was doomed from the moment it started.

Here he is, months later, and he and Hannibal are still together. In love. He’s never been more relieved that anyone was more wrong about anything in his life.


	25. Chapter 25

He heads to Hannibal’s house with his dogs just after noontime, arriving at his door around one. His arms are full as he stumbles through the door, Winston pulling on his leash because he’s excited to see Hannibal. “Easy,” Will laughs as they come into the foyer. “Winston, come on.”

Hannibal comes out from the study, a smile on his face as he kneels in front of the worked-up dog, ruffling his ears in his long fingers. “Hello, Winston,” he says cordially while Winston whines, going up on his hind legs to lick at Hannibal’s face. “It seems I was missed,” he laughs, reaching to pet Buster, too.

“I was almost dragged into the house on my face, so yeah,” Will grins while undoing their leashes. “They’re not the only ones happy to see you.”

Hannibal takes the shoulder bag from Will’s hand, dropping it to the bench by the side of the door. Their kiss is gentle and sweet, Hannibal’s hands splayed low on Will’s hips. “I don’t see a garment bag,” Hannibal notes between kisses.

Will laughs against his mouth, pulling away with a roll of his eyes. “In the car. I had enough to deal with, never mind trying not to wrinkle a suit, besides. I’ll be right back.”

He runs back out to the street, opening the door to carefully unhook the bag from the suit hook by the door. He carries the nondescript black bag into the house at arm’s length, doing his best to keep it away from dog hair and wrinkles.

Hannibal stares at it as he walks in, reaching for it absently. Will tugs it away from him, tutting while shaking his head. “You’ll see later on. Mind your wandering hands, please.”

His partner’s fingers twitch by his sides, and Will just knows he’s dying to see what atrocity Will has rented. His citrine eyes are boring holes into the bag, and Will laughs. “Hannibal come on. I’m going to look pretty good I think.”

“If I could just see it, I could-”

“You will see it,” Will interrupts him, walking away to head up the stairs where he’ll hang his suit. “When it’s on me, okay?”

Hannibal follows him up to the bedroom, loitering by the door while Will hangs the bag carefully in the closet. “What color suit are you wearing?” Will asks absently.

There is silence from Hannibal, and when Will turns to see why he’s so quiet, he realizes that his partner is about to burst a forehead vein. “Black, Will. _Please_ tell me you didn’t rent a tux in a color.”

Will almost laughs but decides messing with him is too much fun to pass up. “There was a tux at the rental place that looked _just_ like the blue one I rented for prom,” Will says, and he keeps his tone even and his face neutral as he says it. “ _Baby_ blue. I know you like me in blue.”

Hannibal’s face twitches, his fingers clenching and unclenching by his sides. “Tell me you’re joking, please.”

Will bites his lip, twisting his fingers nervously while his beautiful, ridiculous, partner looks like he’s about to have a stroke. “It really is blue, Hannibal.”

Hannibal has his cell phone out before Will even realizes he’s moved, and Hannibal shakes his head. “I have a tailor; he _might_ be able to get something together in time.”

“No,” Will says, reaching for the phone to pluck it from his hands. “I wanted to wear blue. You told me to be myself, right? That you love me? Let me wear what I want, please.”

It’s a low blow, and he knows it when Hannibal clears his throat, his face pinching in contrition. “Of course,” he says softly. “Forgive me.”

“You’re making me nervous,” Will laughs. “I’m already nervous enough.”

His partner’s eyes slide back to the garment bag, but he thankfully drops it. “We’ll be leaving around six,” he says distractedly. “I’ll make us an early dinner, so we have time to get ready afterwards.”

“Sure,” Will shrugs, handing Hannibal his phone back. “I’d like to tire the dogs out a little. Want to go for a walk with them?”

Hannibal nods, but his eyes are still on the fucking garment bag. It takes everything Will has not to just show it to him. “Of course.”

They head out to the sidewalk, Hannibal walking Winston again while Will walks Buster. The weather is a little colder than it’s been, and Will shivers as they walk down the street. They walk for the better part of an hour, each dog peeing randomly on different things that they feel the need to mark as their own.

By the time they get back to the house, Buster is dragging his legs, his little body exhausted enough that he plops himself down on the rug in the dining room, promptly snoring away. Winston is a little better off, but he wags his tail as he settles out on the rug too, watching Will and Hannibal as they take off their coats. “I’ll start dinner,” Hannibal says softly, brushing his lips against Will’s cheek.

Will joins him in the kitchen, taking out the cutting boards while Hannibal hands him vegetables to chop. “Lomo saltado,” Hannibal tells him while cutting strips of steak thinly. “A Peruvian dish that originated in China.”

Will slices the peppers and onions, pinching his lips together. “It looks like a stir-fry to me.”

Hannibal’s hands still, his eyes flicking up to Will in a way that reminds him of the time he over-simplified his chicken soup. “I suppose it is.”

Despite the fact that it really is just a stir-fry, it’s freaking delicious. Hannibal serves it with jasmine rice, and the flavors of the meat compliment the ginger and garlic perfectly. “This is excellent,” Will says with a grin.

“And it’s quite simple,” Hannibal replies, primly scraping his knife against his fork. “Some of the best dishes are the simple ones.”

Will nods at that, spearing another sliver of perfectly cooked beef on his fork. “Will Evelyn be there tonight?”

Hannibal nods while chewing his bite. “She will be, perhaps even her husband may be. A few other acquaintances that I’ve met in the opera circles as well. There isn’t an extraordinary amount of socializing at events like this. A brief cocktail hour before, and a small champagne toast afterwards.”

“Sounds like my kind of event,” Will grins, reaching forward to touch Hannibal’s hand. “Do you… do you talk to the journalists?”

“Never,” Hannibal chuckles. “The journalists that are in attendance are vultures. They’ll know who you are, though. Make no mistake. There are others that will be in attendance that will happily fill in the blanks of everything that I refuse to tell them.”

Will bites his lip at that, pushing a slice of red pepper around on his plate. “If they’re willing to pay to know about us, Molly might try and cash in on that.”

Hannibal nods, his face as carefully neutral as Will’s ever seen it. His mask is stitched tight, and Will despises it. “I’ve considered that. It matters not. While it’s frowned upon for us to be involved post-therapy, I cannot lose my license for it.”

“Just your reputation,” Will supplies, grimacing while reaching for his wine glass. “She might not do that, but…”

“It’s a possibility,” Hannibal acknowledges, tilting his head while staring down at his plate. “I was honest with you last night. I don’t care about any of it, Will.” He glances up and the expression on his face is earnest. “I would burn down my life if it meant keeping you. What we have is the only thing of value in my life.”

Will leans forward to press a kiss to his cheek, touching his forearm that rests on the table. “I love you, Hannibal. I never want you to lose anything because of me, but… giving you up isn’t possible anymore. We’re… conjoined.”

Hannibal smiles at that, the corners of his eyes crinkling just a bit. “I doubt I would survive it if you left,” he says softly. “I’ve lived my life, priding myself on being the lone pillar on which I held all of my darkest and heaviest burdens. Until you, I did not realize how the weight of it was crushing me. Sharing my history with you, allowing you to see me and know me… if you left now, my life would crumble around me like ash and stone.”

Will swallows thickly, climbing from his seat to wrap his arms around Hannibal’s shoulders. Hannibal kisses his cheek softly, holding him so gently that it aches. “You aren’t the only one that wouldn’t survive the separation.”

Hannibal holds him for another moment before pulling away to press a kiss to Will’s mouth, and Will kisses him back with as much fervor as he can pour into it. Will pulls away eventually, licking his lips as he rests his forehead against Hannibal’s own. “I’ve got to feed the dogs and get them out one more time before I get ready.”

Hannibal nods, touching his cheek with his fingers. “I’ll clean up, then. You may get ready in the upstairs bathroom if you’d like.”

Will shakes his head. “I’ll use the downstairs bath. All I need is my suit, and everything else is in my shoulder bag.”

Will takes their plates to the kitchen and puts them in the sink, then dishes out two portions of the dog food he made the day before. While his dogs are eating, he goes upstairs to gather the garment bag, bringing it with him to hang on the hook behind the door of the downstairs bathroom. He digs out a new razor from his shoulder bag and takes everything else he’s going to need out of it to place it on the counter. 

When he comes out, his dogs have finished eating, so he gathers their leashes and takes them for a short walk around the block before heading back to the house.

By the time he comes back, Hannibal is just finishing up the dishes, smiling softly at Will as he comes into the kitchen. “I’m going to get ready, okay?”

“I was just about to head upstairs to do the same,” Hannibal replies. He comes around the counter to press a kiss to Will’s mouth before he heads upstairs, and Will goes down the hall to the bathroom to get ready.

He takes his time shaving his face clean, taking care to smooth out rough spots and avoid nicking himself. In the shower, he washes himself thoroughly in the hope that Hannibal will make love to him afterwards. 

Once out of the shower, he brushes out his hair and attempts to tame the damp locks by twisting the curls in his fingers, creating a part-line. Hopefully, he’s done it well enough that when it dries it will maintain some semblance of control.

He pats his face with his new aftershave, and the smell of it is just clean and lightly scented. He really can’t be sure, but he thinks Hannibal will appreciate it. Getting dressed is difficult, as he doesn’t want to wrinkle anything, but his suit is much more fitted than anything he’s ever owned. Even the button-down is tapered to him, curving with his hip, and cinching at his waistline perfectly. 

It’s been at least a decade since he’s tied a bowtie, so it takes him a few tries before it looks even and straight. He dabs his wrists and behind his ears with a little bit of the cologne he’s purchased, and the reflection of the man looking back at him in the mirror is not a familiar one.

He looks incredible. The blue of the suit makes his eyes look like sapphire. He struggles a bit to get his dad’s cufflinks in, but he manages it after a few failed attempts. His new dress shoes are a bit uncomfortable, and he winces a bit as he shifts his feet. He’s nervous. What if the blue, regardless of its muted color, isn’t acceptable?

Too late to worry about that now, Will sighs. He smooths his fingers against the lapel of the blazer, even though it’s perfect already, and steps out of the bathroom. 

Hannibal is just coming down the stairs himself, and they both go still as they regard one another in the hallway. Hannibal’s eyes are wide, his mouth parted while his eyes slide from Will’s freshly shaven face right down to his polished shoes. 

Will is just as taken with Hannibal. His suit is deep and inky black, the tailoring absolutely flawless. It curves around his body like a second skin, emphasizing his broad shoulders and narrow waist exquisitely. The black of his suit makes his eyes look fathomless, bringing them out beautifully. The stark white of his dress shirt makes him look impossibly tan and healthy. Will needs a minute to keep himself from peeling Hannibal out of the suit to drag him up to bed.

“If I saw you every day forever Will, I would remember this time,” Hannibal says softly. “You are… exquisite.”

Will feels his cheeks heat, as it’s the single most romantic thing that anyone’s ever said to him in his life. “Is the blue alright?”

Hannibal steps toward him, smoothing his long fingers against the lapel of his blazer. “It’s flawless. You had a tux made,” he says softly.

“Yeah,” Will admits while touching the soft material of Hannibal’s suit. “Jimmy told me it was a possibility that you’d invite me to this, and Bev knew a guy that does tailoring. It was a group effort.”

“The tailor took great care,” Hannibal agrees, tracing the line of his hip to his waist. “Absolutely stunning.”

“You look incredible,” Will breathes out, and he cringes the moment it’s out of his mouth. “You always do, though.”

“No one will be looking at me, beloved,” Hannibal says with a small smile. “Not with the most ethereally beautiful man in the world on my arm, at least.” He leans forward, nuzzling softly at Will’s jawline. “And you smell good enough to eat.”

Will laughs at that, tipping his head gently to allow him more room. Hannibal takes it, pressing soft kisses to his neck and his jawline while scenting him. “Do you like it? I smelled at least twenty horrible colognes before settling on this one.”

“It’s light and clean,” Hannibal says appraisingly. “It doesn’t mask your scent at all. Perfect, really.”

“I wanted to look good for you,” Will admits with another blush staining his cheeks. “I wanted people to see me tonight and not wonder what the hell you were doing with me. You’re sickeningly perfect.”

Hannibal grins at that, leaning forward to brush their lips together briefly. “You always manage to surprise me. Something no one has been able to do in all my life.”

“I still say that’s a sign of instability, but… as long as you’re happy,” Will says, biting his lip and glancing away briefly. “We should get going. I’m going to need a whiskey if you mean for me to socialize.”

“Of course,” Hannibal nods. “Wait here just one moment, please.”

Will’s eyebrows furrow while he watches Hannibal retreat upstairs, and he takes the extra second to refill the dogs water bowl at the kitchen sink. He meets Hannibal back in the foyer, where his partner is fluffing out two gorgeous black peacoats. He sets one aside, turning to Will with the other.

“I bought this for you,” he says softly, turning Will by his shoulder so he’s facing away from Hannibal. “Your coats are not warm enough, and this is more than acceptable to wear to an evening such as this.” Will allows him to help him into the warm coat, turning in Hannibal’s arms to allow his partner to adjust the lapels and button him into it. “It fits you perfectly.”

Will touches the inky black material hesitantly, his cheeks heated with a blush. “I don’t know how I feel about this, but… thank you.”

“This is nothing, Will,” Hannibal assures him. “I want you to look your best and be as warm as you can be while doing so.”

Hannibal dons his own coat before they leave the house.

Once in the car, Hannibal glances at Will as they pull out of his driveway. “Did you really rent a tux similar to that for your prom?”

Will laughs, glancing over at him with a quirked eyebrow. “Do you really believe I went to prom?”

Hannibal shrugs. “I have no idea, honestly. It doesn’t seem like something you’d do, but I’m never certain when it comes to you.”

“My dad and I had just moved to New Orleans,” he says softly. “Before that, we lived in Biloxi, Mississippi where my dad found work at a boatyard. Before that, we lived for a few years in Michigan. I didn’t really have friends in high school, Hannibal. I wasn’t there long enough to make them. Besides that, when my classmates were getting ready to go to prom, I was burying my dad.”

“Was there no one who helped you with his arrangements?” Hannibal wonders, glancing at Will briefly with a concerned expression. 

“There was no one, Hannibal. I had a little bit in savings from working at the boatyard with him on weekends. I could afford to have him cremated, but… no proper service. I don’t think he’d have minded that, though. I spread his ashes in the Mississippi river. He lived for the water, I figured he’d like to rest there, too.”

“I don’t mean to upset you by speaking of this,” Hannibal replies after a moment. 

“You’re not,” Will assures him, reaching over to touch his knee. “I did the best that I could. I am not ashamed.”

“Do you have anything of him? Anything that reminds you of him?”

Will touches his shirtsleeve absently, glancing down at the tiny sapphire cufflinks. “I have these cufflinks,” he says softly. “They were my grandfather’s, and then my Dad’s. They just so happened to be his birthstone, so his father gave them to him as a gift for he and my mom’s wedding. Aside from his wedding ring, they’re the only jewelry he ever had. I have a few odd things that were his, too. That wooden ambient weather station I have on my living room wall was his, but I have no idea where he got it. My dog food pan used to be his, too. Although he’d use it for his crawfish boils and corn on the cob.”

“I hope you realize how incredible you are to have achieved so much,” Hannibal says softly, glancing at Will briefly before looking back to the road. “The odds were against you, and you flourished in spite of them.”

“There was an urge to follow in my father’s footsteps,” Will admits with a shrug. “Fixing boats isn’t glamorous, but it’s peaceful. It’s just you, the sun, the water, and the boat you’re working on. I was tempted by it… but I wanted more.”

“Every decision we have made has led us to this moment,” Hannibal replies. “I wouldn’t change a thing, Will.”

Will reaches for his hand over the shifter, lacing their fingers together. “I wouldn’t, either.”

When they pull up to the Baltimore Opera House, it’s packed with people and bright lights. A valet takes Hannibal’s car keys and hands him a ticket, and then Hannibal takes him by the crook of his arm.

There are cameras flashing and people everywhere, and Will doesn’t even know where to look. It’s overwhelming, and he feels raw. Exposed.

Hannibal eases an arm around his waist as they walk past, tucking him close enough that he can feel his body heat through their coats. It’s no better in the foyer where their coats are taken at the coat check, and Hannibal keeps him close as they navigate through the hall while cameras flash and random people call his name. 

Mrs. Komeda is the first to find them once they’re in the inner hall, and she greets them immediately. “Hannibal,” she says warmly while leaning up to air kiss his cheeks. Her evening gown is brilliant red, and it accentuates her tiny frame effortlessly. “Will,” she greets him, touching his elbow as she leans up to air kiss him, too. “Aren’t you just radiant?” she says with a bubbling laugh while smoothing her perfectly manicured fingers down the lapels of Will’s blazer.

“You look beautiful,” Will tells her, and she beams up at him as though he’s just proposed to her. 

“As do you, handsome man. I want you to meet my husband, but he’s fetching me a drink.”

“Has Edward joined us this evening?” Hannibal asks while easing his arm back around Will’s waist. 

“He has,” she says with a raised eyebrow. “Can you believe it?”

“What’s being said about me, now?” A middle-aged man asks, easing into the circle by handing off a glass of champagne to Evelyn. 

“Edward,” Hannibal greets politely, extending a hand for a handshake. “How good to see you.”

“Likewise,” he says politely. “And who is this?”

“Will Graham,” Will introduces himself while extending a hand, too. Edward takes it immediately, giving him a firm handshake. 

“He is my partner,” Hannibal says while smiling warmly. His arm goes back around Will’s waist, and Edward raises his eyebrows.

“Someone finally got you to settle down,” he chuckles, and Evelyn slaps his chest with her palm. 

“Someone finally gave him reason to,” Evelyn interjects, glancing at Will apologetically. “He’s a wonderful man. I met him at the art gallery a few weeks back.”

“Excuse me a moment,” Hannibal says softly, pressing a kiss to Will’s temple. “I’ll get us a drink.”

Hannibal leaves him, but Will doesn’t feel out of place with Evelyn. “I told him I needed a whiskey if he expected me to be social.”

Evelyn laughs, and even Edward cracks a smile. “He’s the Will you were talking about, darling? The profiler that works for the FBI?”

“The one and same,” she says with a grin. “He caught that dreadful man that was killing those girls. I read about it in the paper and felt such a swell of pride for knowing you.”

“A hero, then,” Edward says while clapping him on the arm. 

Will shakes his head, hunching his shoulders slightly. “Hardly, but thank you.”

“Have you been to an opera before?” Evelyn wonders.

Will shakes his head, glancing around the room to take in all the people around him. “This is a first for me. This whole thing is just…”

“It’s overwhelming,” Edward agrees easily, his eyebrows furrowed with annoyance. “I don’t always join my wife with events like this because even after nearly fifteen years, I still hate the vultures,” he says while nodding his head to the flashing lights from the foyer of the building. “I’ve worked hard for the life that I lead. I don’t want people ogling me the moment I’ve stepped out of the house.”

Evelyn rolls her eyes affectionately. “Their interests are shallow and brief. They want to know who you’re wearing, who your date is for the evening, if you’re still wealthy… things of that nature. It doesn’t bother me.”

Will glances over to the flashing cameras at the foyer, grimacing a bit. “I don’t really like it, either.”

“You’ve got it worse than I do,” Edward chuckles. “Hannibal is foreign royalty. The Baltimore press just adore him.”

Hannibal eases back into the space by Will’s side, handing him a tumbler of whiskey. He’s gotten himself a glass of champagne, and Will leans into him, resting a bit of his weight against his chest. “My Will feels the same way about the press as you do, Edward. Please don’t frighten him away.”

“Your darling man hunts killers, Hannibal,” Evelyn grins, reaching out to touch his elbow. “I think our brave Will can handle a camera’s flash to be by your side.”

“Anything for him,” Will replies easily, and Evelyn looks like she’s about to melt into the marble floor while Hannibal presses another kiss to his temple. 

Will meets a few of Hannibal’s other acquaintances from the opera circles, and they’re just as polite as Evelyn and Edward are. The whiskey that Hannibal got him is probably the best that Will’s ever had, and he sips it so quickly that meeting all the new people that he’s introduced to becomes a little easier with liquid courage in his gut.

His phone chimes from in his pocket, and he blushes while apologizing. He forgot to turn off his ringer, and he’s momentarily glad that someone texted him to remind him of it.

Bev: Still waiting on a mirror selfie, Graham.

Will smiles at the phone, touching Hannibal’s arm. “I promised Bev a photo of me all dressed up, but I think she’d like if you were in the picture, too.”

Hannibal grins down at him, adjusting their pose while Will holds up his phone in the private corner of the bar where they’re standing. Hannibal wraps his arms around Will from behind, Will smiling up at the camera as he takes the photo. 

Their suits are barely visible, but the smile on Will’s face is genuine. The photo is ridiculously sweet, and Will touches his screen, glancing up at Hannibal over his shoulder. “We look happy.”

“Because we are,” Hannibal says against his ear, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Send it to her, please.”

He sends it, as well as a text telling her that a full-suit picture would very likely be in the damned paper tomorrow.

Her next text is a finger smash of letters, and then all caps. ‘YOU GUYS LOOK AMAZING. Tell Dr. Hotass I said hello.’

He doesn’t need to tell Hannibal a thing, as Dr. Hotass himself is still over his shoulder, chuckling over her ridiculous text messages. “Sorry,” Will laughs.

“I find it sweet,” Hannibal assures him. Will shuts his phone off, turning in Hannibal’s arms to press a kiss to his jaw. 

The lights dim, and they take the cue to go to their seats. 

Hannibal has box seats, and they’re fucking incredible. The entire opera house is ornate and beautiful, all vibrant reds and golds, old chandeliers, and elegant moldings. Will sits awkwardly, unbuttoning his jacket as he settles down beside Hannibal. “I feel just like Julia Roberts right now.”

“You truly must stop drawing parallels with that film,” Hannibal grins, lacing their fingers over his thigh.

“Difficult to avoid,” Will replies. “He took her to an opera.”

Hannibal touches the sapphire cufflinks on his cuff, and Will glances over at him. “They’re beautiful,” Hannibal says softly.

“It’s a coincidence that they match my suit,” Will shrugs. “I know you like me in blue.”

Hannibal leans over, touching Will’s jaw to tip his face up for a kiss. It’s a gentle thing, just soft lips, and the barest hint of sweet tongue before he pulls away. “I like you in blue, green, cream white,” he says softly, nuzzling at the nape of Will’s neck where he feels his partner inhale deeply. “I prefer you in nothing at all, however.”

“I think,” Will says distractedly while Hannibal presses kisses to his throat. “Your snooty friends would have a problem with my lily-white ass at the opera. The press would have a field day, though.”

“Crass,” Hannibal chuckles, taking his face again to press a damp kiss to his mouth before pulling away. “But unfortunately, true.”

The lights dim, and the show begins.

It’s something else. With Will’s gift, and the amount of emotions pouring from the songs, it’s not difficult to follow along with the story. Will glances over at Hannibal as he can feel the emotions rolling off of him easily. He’s affected by the story, by the music. His eyes are intensely focused, and Will is startled to see that they’re glistening with unshed tears. 

Will laces their fingers together while looking back to the stage, and he can feel Hannibal’s eyes on the side of his face briefly before his long fingers squeeze his hand gently.

They stay linked right through to the intermission.

The rest of the show is magnificent, and Will is absolutely shocked to realize that he’s had a really nice time. He’d go to another opera, if Hannibal should ask him to join him, that is. He doesn’t think he’s done anything untoward tonight. Nothing that would have embarrassed him in any way.

As if sensing his uncertainty, Hannibal leans over and presses a kiss to his cheek as they leave the box to head downstairs for the champagne toast. Evelyn finds them in the lobby, sauntering over to them in her evening gown like royalty. “How did you like it, Will?” she asks.

Will sips his champagne, nodding his head. “It was beautiful,” he says seriously. “I really enjoyed it.”

Will rests his palm on the small of Hannibal’s back, tucking him close against his side. Hannibal beams down at him with the small gesture, allowing Will to pull him close. “This was one of the better renditions of Faust that I’ve had the pleasure of seeing,” he says politely. “I’m so pleased to have shared it with you, beloved.”

Will blushes while Evelyn looks fit to burst. “You know what I look forward to?” she asks conspiratorially, touching Hannibal’s elbow where it rests against Will’s abdomen. “A wedding invitation!”

Will just about chokes on his glass of champagne, while Hannibal stiffens visibly in Will’s arms. “Perhaps someday,” Hannibal says awkwardly while Will contains a panic attack. “We have only been together about four months now,” he explains further.

Evelyn shrugs, sipping her champagne delicately. “I only knew Edward six months before he asked me to marry him. Here we are, fifteen years later and still in love.” She glances over to Edward, who is picking his teeth with a cocktail straw. “Most of the time,” she amends.

She gets called away by Edward, who is clearly asking for help in extricating himself from the conversation he is having, and Will turns to Hannibal with a raised eyebrow. “She’s…”

“I know,” Hannibal says softly, leaning his weight a little more against Will’s side. 

“I’m not opposed to… what she said,” Will explains gently. “I want you to know that. I just-”

“Will,” Hannibal chuckles, leaning forward to press a kiss against his cheek. “You don’t need to worry that I’m offended. I am in agreement with you.”

Will breathes a silent sigh of relief, tipping his face upwards for a kiss that Hannibal doesn’t hesitate to give him. “Dr. Lecter!” a voice calls to their side, just as their lips touch.

Hannibal’s entire body tenses as he pulls away from Will, his eyes closing briefly as he turns towards the person who called his name. 

Franklyn and Tobias. 

Will can feel Hannibal’s hackles rising, and he places a reassuring palm to his partner’s back. “Franklyn. Tobias. Good evening.”

Franklyn is beaming at Hannibal while Tobias is just… staring at him. Will eases against his partner’s side, and the movement attracts Franklyn’s attention. “Nice to see you again, Bill.”

“It’s Will, actually,” Will corrects automatically, and Franklyn purses his mouth at him. 

“Sorry, not that memorable, I guess,” he says off-handedly while turning back to Hannibal. “Did _you_ enjoy the performance tonight?”

Hannibal lets out a slow sigh, his eyes like ice as they regard the little man. “Will and I both enjoyed the performance, thank you.”

“Well I know you’d have enjoyed the performance,” Franklyn says, his smile wide and open as his eyes travel Hannibal’s body. “You’re _cultured_. I mean, has your… little boyfriend even been to the opera before this?”

“I haven’t,” Will answers, because he is in fact in the room and can answer for himself. 

He hears a throaty rumble of laughter, and he’s almost shocked when he realizes that Tobias is laughing at him. “Not surprising,” Tobias says softly, and Will’s eyebrows raise at the murmured insult.

Hannibal’s eyes narrow at them, his mouth set in a grim line. “I’ve discussed with the both of you how I do not appreciate being approached outside of our scheduled appointments. I dislike being rude in this way, but the both of you have been reprehensible to my partner, and I’d appreciate it if you’d both…” Hannibal hesitates, seemingly at a loss with his own rudeness.

Will decides to help him out. “Fuck off,” he says with a bright grin.

Franklyn’s eyes widen while a startled gasp escapes his mouth, and Tobias’ eyes narrow on him alarmingly. “ _Shockingly_ rude!” Franklyn sputters.

“Not surprising though, is it?” Will asks pointedly, glaring back at Tobias.

Hannibal’s face is suspiciously still, his features schooled to near perfection. Will can tell though that he’s doing his damned best not to crack a grin. “I’ll see you both later this week,” he says dismissively. “Good evening, gentlemen.”

With that, Hannibal takes Will’s arm and steers him away while the grin he’s kept at bay cracks his façade. “Will, for God’s sake,” he laughs.

“What?” he asks innocently. “You can’t say that to them, but I sure as shit can. I know you wanted to say the same thing.”

“I most certainly did not,” Hannibal laughs. His eyes are bright with amusement as they stare down at Will’s face, his hand coming up absently to trace Will’s jaw. “Perhaps I would have asked them to please leave us to enjoy our night, but…”

“They were rude to me first,” Will says indignantly and Hannibal huffs out another laugh.

“Childish,” he sighs, but there’s no heat in it. Will lets him steer them back to the bar, where he orders Will another whiskey and himself a scotch. “Have they ruined this evening for you, beloved?” he asks once their drinks are set down in front of them.

“Not at all,” Will assures him while sipping his whiskey. “Everything they said to me comes from sheer resentment that I get to go home with you, and they don’t. It placates me enough that I don’t care what they say to me at all.”

“Their interest in me is not romantic,” Hannibal replies after a sip of his scotch. Hannibal glances back to Will, and his eyes are the same color as the liquid in his glass. “They’ve transferred their romantic feelings for one another towards me instead. I’ve tried to discuss it with them, point out the inherent flaws in their supposed worship of me, but… neither of them will hear it. It bodes well though that they’ve attended an event together. Tobias has been rather absent from Franklyn as of late. However, I do worry that Tobias’ attendance was more to see me than to be with his partner.”

Will glances away at that, gnawing his lip. “Do you think our relationship began with transference?” 

Hannibal takes a deliberate sip of his drink, glancing carefully away from Will. “I think initially, yes.”

“You didn’t try to talk me out of it,” Will says, arching his eyebrow at his partner. “Why is that, Dr. Lecter?”

“Because my feelings regarding you were wholly selfish,” Hannibal replies eventually. “I ended our therapy the moment I realized that I wanted more from you. It’s still… highly inappropriate behavior on my part. I battled with it for weeks, but…” 

Will feels bad for making him feel guilty, and he takes pity on him. “I love your cooking,” Will says softly, leaning into his side a bit as he glances up at his tortured partner. “I love that you sketch and write music. I love that you understand the darker side of my nature. I love that your hugs have grown softer and more accepting. I love your generosity… to an extent. I love that no matter what I say or do, you just… accept me and love me. I love your fierce intelligence and unending desire to learn and better yourself. I love you, Hannibal. Our relationship may have started out inappropriately, but… it doesn’t change that I see you and know you. It doesn’t hurt anything that you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, either.”

The sheen on Hannibal’s eyes says more than his stoic face. He sips his scotch, licking the traces of it from his lips while his eyes shift over Will’s face. “I truly did try to save your relationship initially,” he says eventually, clearing his throat. “When that miserable woman made it clear that there was not a single thing about you that she loved, I decided I would allow whatever you wanted with me. You deserve to be worshipped, Will. You deserve the world laid at your feet. You deserve an equal that loves you for exactly who you are, and I do. I see you too, and what I see, I love endlessly.”

Will grips him by the lapels of his thousand-dollar tux and tugs him down for a harsh kiss, parting his mouth with lips and tongue. Hannibal’s mouth opens in surprise briefly before he returns his fervor, kissing him back with equal enthusiasm. He hears a few murmurs of outrage for the completely inappropriate public display, but he can’t give a single shit in the moment. He wants to kiss Hannibal, and God _damn_ , is he kissing him.

When he pulls away, his gorgeous man looks more than a little debauched, a gentle curve softening the pout of his mouth. “I should tell you how I feel more often, I think,” Hannibal grins, reaching for his scotch again. 

Will smiles, resting his weight against Hannibal’s side a bit while they sip their drinks. “In case I forget to tell you, I had a really nice time tonight,” Will says softly, glancing up at Hannibal who looks ridiculously pleased by it. “Thank you for bringing me.”

Hannibal presses a kiss to his temple, and Will feels him take a deep inhale at his hairline. “Anytime, beloved. It was a pleasure.”

“So how long do we have to… uh, loiter afterwards?” Will asks with an awkward laugh. “I’d kind of like to get home.”

“I think I’d like that, too. We can at least find Evelyn and Edward, say farewell.”

Will nods, and they finish their drinks to head out into the crowd. It’s not difficult to find them, as Evelyn’s laugh and red dress are completely impossible to miss. 

Her eyes catch them, and she touches the arm of the woman that she’s speaking to in order to excuse herself from the conversation. “Don’t tell me that you’re leaving already,” she says while glancing between them.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Hannibal says apologetically. “We have dogs at home that require our attention.”

Evelyn looks completely floored by that revelation, and she laughs. “Dogs? In your house?”

Hannibal shrugs, smiling softly and Will touches the small of his back. “They’re my dogs, but I bring them when I stay with him,” Will explains. “Believe me, I know how huge that is.”

Evelyn’s laugh is vibrant as she reaches out to touch Will’s arm. “I can hardly believe it. Do you know, I once went to a dinner party at his home,” she says conspiratorially, and Hannibal sighs.

“Evelyn, please,” Hannibal pleads with a laugh and she waves him off.

“A woman he was… well, seeing at the time. She wore these heels,” she breaks out in a giggle, and Will can’t help but laugh at the teasing look on her face. 

“They were _spikes_ ,” Hannibal says defensively. “Metal heels. Who has ever heard of such a thing?”

“Regardless of their composition, she walked into his home, metal heels clicking against his flooring. Hannibal’s face was fit to be tied. He asked her to remove them, and she refused!”

“There are still pock marks by the doorway,” Hannibal laments, pursing his mouth in distaste. “I asked her to leave, and it was no great loss.”

“So you can understand why I’m shocked,” she laughs, reaching up to touch Hannibal’s cheek apologetically. 

Will leans into him, and Hannibal wraps his arm around his waist. “They’re good dogs,” Hannibal replies, pressing a kiss to Will’s cheek. “I’ve come to love them just as I love their owner.”

Will blushes, and Evelyn touches a hand to her chest. “You can love them all you want, they’re going to scratch your flooring,” Will chuckles.

“Small price to pay to make you smile,” Hannibal replies. 

“Soon enough you’ll be living in Wolf Trap, and you won’t have to get all sweaty about the flooring in our house,” Will says thoughtlessly.

“Are you moving in, Hannibal?” Evelyn asks, her eyes wide and interested. Hannibal clears his throat, and Will backtracks.

“Uh, well… we’re discussing it,” Will says awkwardly while blushing to his hairline. 

“After Christmas,” Hannibal says softly. “We have a few things to work out beforehand.”

She leans up, pressing an honest kiss to Hannibal’s cheek. “I truly am so happy for you, darling. You deserve every happiness, and Will is an absolute treasure to be sure.”

“Thank you,” Hannibal replies, glancing at Will with a soft expression on his face. “He truly is.”

Will smiles as she leans into him, kissing his cheek as well. “Once he’s in, we’ll have you over for dinner. So long as you don’t mind driving out to Virginia.”

“No trouble at all,” she says warmly. “It was wonderful to see you both.”

“Give Edward our best,” Hannibal says while glancing around. “Wherever he is.”

“Smoking a cigar with his friend, I’d wager,” she laughs. “I’ll tell him you said goodnight.”

They head to the coat check, and it’s not busy because they’re leaving at a completely anti-social time. Will is quiet while they wait for the valet to get the Bentley, and Hannibal gets his door for him once they park it by the curb.

Hannibal drives away, and Will fidgets in the passenger seat. “I’m sorry if I presumed,” he says quickly. “I just thought… I thought that’s what you wanted, and… shit, I think I was wrong?”

“Will,” Hannibal sighs, reaching over to take his hand and squeeze it reassuringly. “You aren’t wrong. I want it more than you can ever possibly imagine. However, you… there are things that you need to know about me, first.”

“So then tell me,” Will retorts, twisting in the seat to take in his partner’s stoic expression. “You keep saying things like that, but nothing comes of it. I can’t know if you won’t just tell me.”

“In time,” Hannibal says dismissively, creaking the leather of the steering wheel in his tight grip. 

“Is it something… I don’t know, sexual?” Will wonders.

Hannibal’s mouth pitches downward in a frown. “No, Will.”

“Does it have to do with Mischa?” Will asks after a beat.

“In a way,” Hannibal replies vaguely, keeping his eyes fixed pointedly at the road. “In time, beloved.”

Will sighs, turning in his seat to glance out the passenger window. “I’m not leaving you, Hannibal. You can just… tell me.”

Hannibal doesn’t respond, and the drive home is completely silent aside from the low classical music that Hannibal has playing through the car speakers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to break this massive chapter up into two! SO. More tomorrow!
> 
> The response to this fic has been OVERWHELMING. I am so flattered and honored and everything in between. Thank you guys so much. <333
> 
> I'm thinking there will be about 30 chapters total. I've also had a few people worry that it won't be Happily Ever After, and I promise that it WILL BE, we've just got some stuff to work through, first! <3333


	26. Chapter 26

When they get back home, Will heads to the downstairs bathroom to painstakingly take his suit off. He hangs it back up carefully, doing his best not to rip any buttons or crease it too much. He takes his sweatpants out of his duffel bag with a clean shirt, changing into them quickly before heading back out to the foyer where his dogs are waiting for him. 

Hannibal comes down the stairs in sleep pants and a soft-looking red sweater, watching Will while he tugs on his old coat. “I’m just going to take the dogs for a quick walk. I’ll be right back.”

“Would you like tea or coffee when you get back?” Hannibal asks while heading towards his kitchen. 

“Tea would be great,” Will says thankfully. He heads out into the cold, walking his dogs along the sidewalk while he tries to come up with an idea of what Hannibal isn’t telling him.

It’s clearly something that Hannibal believes would end them if Will knew about it. The list for something like that is ridiculously small.

Does he have a kid somewhere in the world? Was he married? That thought stalls Will out. 

He remembers reading an article about a rumor that Hannibal had been married in secret, but he disregarded it completely when he read it. Now he’s wondering if there’s some truth to it. They spend a lot of time together, but… Hannibal is on his own for the majority of the week. If he is in a struggling marriage, he does still have time to see them occasionally. 

Will’s stomach turns at the thought, but he knows even then he wouldn’t leave. 

His dogs do their duty, and Will heads back to the house. Once back in the warmth of the foyer, he unleashes his dogs and heads to the bathroom to wash his hands before going to the kitchen.

Hannibal is setting a pot of hot tea down on the counter, pouring them each a perfect teacup of black tea. “Are you married?” Will asks with no finesse whatsoever.

His partner glances up in surprise, a little huff of amusement escaping his mouth. “What on earth would make you think that?”

Will sits at the island stool, taking the steaming cup from Hannibal’s hand. “I read an article a while back that suggested you’d been married in secret. I’m just trying to think of something that would end us if I knew about it.”

“I am not married,” Hannibal assures him while settling out on the stool next to him. “I have never been married. I don’t have a secret family or children running around somewhere. You are the love of my life, Will.”

Will sips his tea carefully, trying not to burn his mouth. Not married. Whatever else it is doesn’t have to do with sex, Hannibal has assured him as much. Something that kind of has to do with Mischa, or maybe the man he killed? Will sets his teacup down and turns to face his partner. “The man that you killed,” Will says hesitantly, glancing up at Hannibal when he feels a wave of panic roll off of him. “Was he the only one?”

“What would make you ask me that?” Hannibal asks carefully.

“You said it has a bit to do with Mischa,” Will replies, twirling his teacup against the counter. “Was there someone else, Hannibal?”

Hannibal is silent for a few minutes, sipping his tea while avoiding eye-contact. “I told you that I went to live with my Aunt Murasaki and my Uncle Robertas,” he says carefully. “My uncle came to the orphanage after a year or so to get me, as he had no idea that his brother had even passed. He took me in out of obligation, not because he truly wanted me in his home. He was not kind to me. He beat me, he beat my aunt. His house was honestly worse than the orphanage, and I can assure you that is truly saying something.”

“Jesus, Hannibal,” Will sighs. He reaches out to lace their fingers together, but Hannibal pulls his hand back.

“I allowed him to mistreat us for two years,” Hannibal says eventually. “My aunt was always there for me afterwards. He would leave, and she would tend to my wounds, share in my grief. One afternoon he came home while we were in the kitchen making dinner together, and whatever he saw made him believe that our relationship was no longer platonic. I was barely fifteen, Will. I didn’t have feelings for her in that way, nor did she have them for me. It mattered not; we were both still beaten within an inch of our lives. 

“I couldn’t bear to live that way anymore. I considered running away, but I knew my aunt would never leave him. He had to be the one to go, but I couldn’t see that ever happening, either. That night, I crept from my room and stabbed him while he slept. I killed him to save us, and my aunt could barely look at me afterwards.”

Will swallows thickly while cold dread runs through his veins. “My aunt helped me dispose of him, as she didn’t want me to be arrested. I know she loved me, but… it made no difference. After that, she did everything she could to be rid of me, and I went to private school that same year. I’ve never seen her again.”

Will stays silent, as he has no idea what to say. Hannibal just confessed to him that he’s killed someone else, and it should upset him more than it does. It should scare him like it scared his aunt, but… it doesn’t. His uncle was a horrible man, and no child deserves the life that Hannibal found himself in after everything he’d already been through. 

Will reaches out again, lacing their fingers on the counter. “Did he suffer?”

Hannibal’s mouth falls open, his eyes flicking towards Will in disbelief. “No. If he did, it was barely moments.”

“Then you did him a kindness,” Will replies. “After everything that you’d been through, I am… devastated that you ended up in the care of someone like that. Hannibal, I’m… I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want pity,” Hannibal retorts bitterly, glaring at Will briefly before turning away again.

“There’s a distinct difference between pity and empathy,” Will says softly. “I wish I could take every horrible thing that’s happened to you away. It’s not pity, Hannibal. I’d carry your pain for you if I could.”

“Does it frighten you, Will?” Hannibal wonders, turning in the stool to face him fully. “Do I frighten you?”

Will shakes his head, holding eye-contact carefully. “He deserved what you gave him. I’m just sorry that your aunt didn’t understand that.”

“How can you be so forgiving?” Hannibal asks, his dark eyes searching Will’s face. “How?”

Will glances away, biting his lip. “Would you be frightened of me if I told you that I liked killing Owen? Not because he was horrible, but… just the act itself?”

Hannibal’s eyes widen while his mouth falls open, and Will swallows tightly. “I shot him, and… his blood sprayed the wall behind him. It soaked into the carpet all around him, the color of it almost black. It smelled like gunpowder and copper pennies. I wasn’t… in a killer’s head, recreating their kill. I was the narrator, and… it was unreal. It was my design, not someone else’s. I watched his last breath leave him, and his eyes dilate as he passed. His last breath stuttered in his chest, and I felt… fucking euphoric. Something inside of me is different, now. I gave him what he deserved, and it felt… extraordinary. Do I frighten you, Hannibal?”

Hannibal’s eyes are glittering while he shakes his head, and Will’s heart pounds in his chest. “How could that frighten me when I can understand it entirely? I know you would never hurt me, and I hope you can understand that I will never hurt you. Never, Will.”

“I know that,” Will says softly. “Hannibal, I know it.”

Hannibal eases his fingers against Will’s throat, threading his fingertips through the hint of curls at the nape of his neck. “You are precious to me, beloved. I need you to remember that.”

Will leans forward, holding Hannibal’s hand against his neck while bringing their mouths together softly. His partner kisses him back gently, soft lips and sweet tongue caressing his own almost shyly. Will pulls away, but only far enough to press their foreheads together while they share the same breath. “Let’s go to bed?”

Hannibal nods, his fingers gripping Will’s neck gently while he presses kisses to his cheek, then his jaw. His eyes are closed as though he’s savoring Will’s closeness, taking comfort in the fact that what he’s told him didn’t frighten Will away.

Hannibal goes to the foyer to lock up while Will refills the water dish for the dogs. Will heads upstairs while Hannibal clicks off the lights before following him up to the bedroom.

They climb into bed, each sliding over to the middle to be closer. The only light is from the streetlamp from the sidewalk, and it casts the room in a hazy, low-orange light. Will touches his face, tracing the contours of his cheekbone with gentle fingertips while Hannibal smooths his palm down Will’s side to rest on his hip. His dark eyes are fathomless as they search Will’s face, as though he’s trying to see even a hint of discomfort in Will’s features. 

He’s certain that his partner won’t find any.

Will inches closer until their bodies are flush against one another and their heads share the same pillow. Hannibal’s hand that had been on his hip slides around to his back, pressing him close almost desperately. His other arm slides under their pillow, scooping Will closer still. Will tilts his head back, touching the harsh curve of a frown on his beautiful man’s face. “I’m not going anywhere, Hannibal,” he promises softly. 

Hannibal’s face softens a bit while he leans forward to capture Will’s mouth with his own, their hands clutching one another as though they might go up in smoke if they don’t hold on. Hannibal rolls him onto his back, his mouth breaking away to trail down his jawline, then his neck. His hands slide under Will’s tee shirt, lifting it up his abdomen to slide it off, and Will wiggles out of it before laying back against the sheets. 

His partner shucks his own shirt, tossing it over the bed while Will eases his pajamas and underwear off his legs. The moment Hannibal’s shirt is off, he eases between Will’s thighs, tipping his face down to bring their mouths together for another kiss. It’s the sweetest kiss that Will can remember having. His tongue is gentle, his lips soft and damp. Hannibal’s fingers are resting against the base of his throat while his thumb strokes his jawline, and Will tips his head to give him more room.

Hannibal takes the offer, gliding his mouth down the pale column of Will’s neck, suckling the skin there softly. Instead of traveling down Will’s chest, Hannibal takes his arm, kissing down the line of his bicep, then the inside of his elbow. No one has ever kissed Will there, and it feels strange; ticklish, almost.

He trails his tongue over Will’s wrist, pressing kisses to it before kissing the pad of each finger, and Will watches him do it with absolute awe on his face. This beautiful man loves him. He didn’t doubt it before, and he certainly can’t now.

When Hannibal returns to his throat, he trails kisses to each collarbone, then the dip of his sternum. There isn’t an inch of Will’s chest or stomach that isn’t kissed or licked in some way, and Will sighs, lacing his fingers through Hannibal’s soft hair. Lips trail back up from his abdomen, latching around a nipple while teeth clench down on it gently, and Will gasps. 

Will is aching, his cock resting uncomfortably against his abdomen, but he doesn’t feel the need to beg for anything. Hannibal has never left him wanting, and if it’s pleasing him as much as Will can feel it is, then his partner can take all the time he needs in the world to worship him this way. Hannibal’s mouth travels lower, kissing the jut of each hip bone, then the inside of Will’s thighs. Every part of his leg is tasted, from his knees to his shins, his ankles, and the arch of his foot. Will laughs, wiggling his foot out of Hannibal’s grip while his partner smiles. 

He’s certain that Hannibal must be finished now, but he’s dead wrong. His partner rolls him onto his stomach, and Will sighs as he settles out on the sheets. Gentle fingers glide along his back, followed by a clever tongue and soft lips. Hannibal is relentless with his attentions, and he kisses every bit of Will that’s laid out under him. 

Large hands grip his ass cheeks, and he hears a low sigh from Hannibal behind him. “You are exquisite,” he says softly before spreading Will open to lick into the most private part of him. Will gasps while easing up onto his knees, spreading himself wider for Hannibal’s mouth. The little hum of approval sends a buzzing heat through Will’s core as his partner’s mouth is latched around his entrance, fucking into him with his tongue. 

Hannibal’s hands travel up and down his thighs while his mouth works him, easing over his hips and across his back. It’s the most intimate experience Will has ever had, and it’s with someone that he loves more than he ever thought possible.

“Hannibal,” Will sighs, arching his spine a little bit as his patience crumbles to dust. “Please.”

He hears a cap open and close before slick fingers ease inside of him, and he grips the pillow under his face while a relieved sigh escapes his mouth. Hannibal opens him up slowly, stroking that spot inside of him just barely while his mouth suckles against his perineum and behind his balls. 

Will has been exceedingly patient, but he’s just about had it at this point. He sits up abruptly, twisting his body around while throwing Hannibal to the bed before straddling his waist. Hannibal looks momentarily surprised, his lush mouth a vibrant pink from all the kisses it’s bestowed in the last half an hour.

Will grips the base of his cock, angling it against his entrance and sinking down over it in one fluid motion. Hannibal’s body clenches up, a little whimper of pleasure escaping his mouth while his hands grip Will’s hips. “I love you,” Will says softly while rolling his hips gently. “God, do I love you.”

A tear escapes Hannibal’s eye while his throat bobs with a rough swallow, and Will leans over him while taking his own pleasure to kiss that stray tear away, trailing soft kisses along the arch of a cheekbone. Hannibal captures his face between his palms, pulling him in for a deep kiss that makes Will moan into the cavern of his mouth. 

Will works him as slowly as he can, and every flex of his hips drags Hannibal’s cock against his prostate exquisitely. His entire body is lit up with pleasure. His skin feels over-sensitive, his balls are drawn tight against him, and his cock is leaking and pulsing enough that Will knows it’s not going to take much to bring him over the edge. 

Hannibal reaches for his cock, and Will shakes his head. “Like this,” Will gasps, arching his back to ease more of Hannibal inside of him. “Just like this.”

“Will,” he sighs while his hands travel up the expanse of his stomach and chest, as though they can’t find a spot to settle. “My beloved.” He sits up while tugging Will’s thighs higher, easing his hands under Will’s ass to support him.

He feels impossibly deep like this, and Will’s head falls back while he rolls his hips, lost in the pleasure of it. Hannibal has never been able to resist the lure of his throat, and this time is no different. Soft lips caress the expanse of it, sucking and nipping at the skin desperately. “Will,” he says in warning while his hand clamps down on the small of Will’s back, urging him to go faster.

Will obliges, rocking himself on his cock more purposefully while their pleasured gasps and sighs fill the room. Hannibal thrusts up harshly, a low moan spilling from his mouth as he finishes deep within Will’s body. Will spreads his thighs wider, sinking down more on his cock while rolling his hips in a circle, the pressure on his prostate so much that he cries out while he comes between their chests. 

His partner whimpers while his spent cock is clenched by Will’s constricting muscles, his large hands gripping his back through it like a lifeline. They come back down slowly, each pressing kisses to whatever skin is closest. Will’s fingers lace through his damp hair, and Will hold him in his arms, their chests brushing while they regain their breath. Hannibal’s face is pressed to his neck, and his arms hold Will so gently that it makes his heart clench in his chest. 

They stay together like that until the sweat and come cooling on their skin becomes too uncomfortable. 

Once they’ve cleaned up in the bathroom and gone back to bed, Hannibal scoops him close, resting his face against Will’s chest while his fingers wander the expanse of Will’s ribs. “I’m going to let you see me, beloved,” he says softly. “All of me.”

“It’s about time,” Will says teasingly, but the emotions that he can feel from Hannibal aren’t light and affectionate. They’re dark. Heavy. Will swallows while lacing his fingers through his hair, trying his best to ease him from the darkness. “I won’t leave you, Hannibal.”

Hannibal brushes his cheek against Will’s chest while his hand grips Will tight for a moment. “I hope that’s true.”

Will fights sleep for as long as he can, but his eyes droop regardless of the gentle affection that his partner is bestowing on him. He falls asleep to soft lips pressing against his chest and loving hands holding him close.

They spend the entirety of Sunday together, and there’s a cloud over all of it. Hannibal makes them breakfast and goes with Will to walk the dogs. They go to lunch together at a little café that Hannibal likes and then the rest of their day is spent at Hannibal’s house.

Hannibal plays the harpsichord while Will peruses his large library, settling out on the sofa in the study with a book of poetry that’s written in French. “Can you read that?” Hannibal asks with a quirk of his mouth while his hands keep playing the harpsichord. 

Will shrugs, settling out in the over-stuffed sofa. “I don’t know? I want to see how much of it I can read,” he laughs. “I’m very rusty.”

His partner abandons the harpsichord in favor of reading with him, easing himself behind Will while he settles out against his chest with the book. “I’ll help you,” he offers softly, and Will smiles while easing back into his chest.

Their day is lazy and quiet, but pensive. Whatever Hannibal decided last night is clearly weighing on him, and Will decides to just be there for him through it. Winston picks up on Hannibal’s mood, and the dog follows him through the house, sitting by his side and tipping his head up at him from time to time. Hannibal seems… startled by it. He seems surprised to turn and find the dog sitting next to him and checking on him, and he smiles while petting Winston’s head and ears. 

Will attempts to lure him back into bed with kisses and soft caresses, but Hannibal just won’t escalate it. The kisses stay soft, his fingertips stay worshipful, and all of it makes Will feel incredibly nervous. Hs mask is on, stitched tightly in place, and Will has completely forgotten what he’s like when he doesn’t want to be seen.

He leaves around nine, gathering his reluctant dogs and kissing his partner with everything he has in him. Hannibal tenses against his lips before kissing him back just as soundly. 

He pulls away, touching the side of Hannibal’s face by the front door. “I love you, Hannibal.”

“As I love you,” he says softly, pressing another kiss to Will’s temple. “Remember that.”

He has a hard time sleeping on Sunday night, as the concern he’s feeling is practically suffocating him. 

When he goes to lunch on Monday afternoon, Bev finds him while slapping a paper down on the table. “Two of the hottest guys I’ve ever seen,” she laughs.

Will rolls his eyes while picking the paper up, glancing down to see himself on Hannibal’s arm. There’s a tiny little blurb about them, the journalist talking about how close Count Lecter seemed with his new beau. There are a few photos, and each of them somehow have caught either Hannibal or himself looking completely smitten. He smiles gently while touching the gentle curve of Hannibal’s smile on the page, glancing up at Bev while blushing. “It was a really nice time.”

“Seems like,” she agrees with a bright laugh. “You clean up nice, Graham. Real smoke show.”

“You get called out this weekend for anything?” Will asks while dropping the paper back to the table.

She shakes her head. “Nope. I had a peaceful weekend with my cat and a bottle of chardonnay. It was perfect.”

Jimmy comes in, waving his tablet at Will with an excited expression on his face. “The two of you make the rest of us look bad, just so you know.”

He flashes the tablet at Bev, who squeaks. “Color photos! Give here!”

Jimmy hands off the tablet while Bev squeaks and scrolls through the photos, and Jimmy turns to Will. “So was he surprised?”

“Very,” Will laughs. “I told him I rented a baby blue tux exactly like the one I rented for prom.”

Jimmy snorts a laugh while pouring himself a coffee. “Cruel, Will. Very cruel.”

“Who’s the lady in the red dress that’s all up on your shit?” Bev wonders while zooming in on a picture.

“Evelyn Komeda,” Will replies, and Jimmy drops his spoon while Bev’s mouth falls open. “She’s a really nice woman, been friends with Hannibal for the whole time he’s lived in the states.”

“The author?” Bev asks with wide eyes.

“The one who wrote, ‘Devil in a Blue Dress’?” Jimmy asks in a high voice while turning to Will with an open mouth.

“I don’t know what she’s written,” Will says honestly, letting out a little bark of laughter. “She’s a novelist, though.”

“Holy shit,” Jimmy sighs while shaking his head. “She’s incredible!”

“What a life you live, Graham,” Bev agrees whole-heartedly. “She seems to really like you.”

“She does,” Will nods while pouring himself a coffee, too. “She’s probably the nicest lady I’ve ever met.”

“Wow, thanks,” Bev retorts dryly while scrolling through pictures. 

“Aside from you,” Will laughs, and she throws the paper at him.

“They know who you are,” Jimmy says softly while nodding his head at the tablet. “They refer to you as ‘The FBI’s Bloodhound’. That’s got to be a little weird for you.”

“It’s so fucking weird I can’t even tell you,” Will agrees with a shrug. “Anything is better than being called a gold digger, though.”

“You look like Prince Charming,” Bev giggles while zooming in on a picture of them. “Look at you. So fucking cute.” She scrolls through a few photos before whistling. “Wow. How do Dr. Hotass’ tonsils taste?”

Will snorts into his coffee, glancing down over his shoulder to see a photo of himself kissing Hannibal by the bar. A blush scorches his cheeks while Jimmy smirks at the photo, and Will sighs. “They taste great. Just like the rest of him.”

Jimmy barks out a laugh while Bev’s jaw falls open. “Not shy anymore, are you? Thank God. I was waiting for you to start spilling the sexy beans.”

Will rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

The rest of his day goes by smoothly, and Tuesday is pretty much the same.

By the time Wednesday rolls around, he’s decided to try something new with Dr. Bloom. It’ll either backfire on him or work perfectly in his favor. He’s determined to try, though. However spiteful it might be.

“How was your week?” she asks while settling out at her desk.

“It was incredible,” Will says dreamily. “It’s been… kind of nice not worrying about being called in for anything.”

She tips her head at that, smiling yet somehow still pursing her lips. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” he nods, while smoothing his hand over his stubbled jaw. “I’ve been able to invest real time in my relationship, and… it’s paid off.”

She licks her lips, glancing down at her desk. “That’s very good, Will. It’s… exactly what I wanted from you.”

“I’ve never been in love like this,” he adds with another dreamy smile, and she looks like she wants to shove him out into the hallway. “It’s incredible. Hannibal and I went to an opera this weekend, and… it was good. I was worried that our… social disparity would be an impasse, but it’s not. I met his friends, and they’re just as wonderful as he is.”

“Have you immersed your time in anything other than your relationship?” she wonders. He’d need to tread carefully, here.

“Oh yeah,” he nods. “I’ve done a bunch of upgrades on my home that I didn’t think I’d have the time to do. I’ve taken up exercising, but… that’s mostly because Hannibal has been feeding me too much. I’ve also started brushing up on my French, as I’ve forgotten quite a bit since I’ve left New Orleans.”

She nods, tapping her pen against her desk. “You seem much more comfortable this week than last week. I’m happy to see it.”

He smiles, glancing out the window. “Hannibal and I have spoken about moving in together after Christmas,” he says softly, allowing his face to smooth out in a dreamy expression. “I’ve never been happier, Dr. Bloom.”

“Are you still having nightmares?” she asks eventually.

He shakes his head, raising his eyebrows as though the realization surprises him. “None this week. I’ve slept well, but… I think it’s because I’ve taken up jogging. I’m usually very tired by the time we crawl into bed.”

We. He makes sure to say ‘we’, and it has the desired effect. She purses her mouth, tipping her head away from him. “That’s very good. I am very pleased, Will.”

“Me too, honestly,” he says softly, giving her a smile that he usually reserves for Hannibal alone. It works, as he feels her attraction to him flare a little bit. “Hannibal and I have also talked about the upgrades we’d do to my house before he moves in, and I look forward to that, too. Apparently, he wants a sunporch. He likes to have a year-round herb garden.”

She clears her throat, arching an eyebrow as she glances out the window. “He’d sell his home in Baltimore?”

Will shrugs, smiling softly. “He loves me, so… he does more for me than I deserve. I know what he’s giving up, so I’ll let him upgrade my kitchen if it makes him happy.”

“Do you think that you’re relying too heavily on him?” Alana wonders, and Will laughs.

“I wouldn’t say I’m relying on him,” Will replies. “He’s the love of my life. I plan to live with him, marry him, give him the world if he wants it. I still spend time with my friends, though. Bev has become something more than a co-worker. She helps me navigate my relationship a little bit, as I’m not… usually good with them. She and Jimmy have been a blessing. I’m happy, Dr. Bloom.”

He’s not sure she heard anything after he said, ‘marry him’, but she nods anyway. “If you feel comfortable with it, I’ll let Jack know that you can begin fieldwork again.”

He raises his eyebrows at her, feigning surprise. “Oh. Well, that’s good.”

“Mm,” she agrees with a clearing of her throat. “I’d ask that you take it easy. If you feel overwhelmed, step back from the situation. Alright?”

“Sure,” he smiles softly. “Thank you, Alana.”

He leaves her office a field agent again, a mischievous little smirk on his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Calm before the storm, folks! You guys have been amazing and wonderful and sweet and PERFECT and thank you guys for making me feel good all the time.
> 
> This chapter is shorter, but... it had to be because... well, REASONS. ANOTHER update tomorrow, though! <333


	27. Chapter 27

His first stop once he’s free is to the evidence locker. He gathers everything they have on the Chesapeake Ripper and brings it to his small office, grunting as he sets the boxes down on his desk. There’s a lot of information to go through, and he does his best to ignore the little thrill that zings through him at the thought.

Hannibal texts him while he’s unpacking the files and arranging them by date. ‘If you’re free, I am leaving work in a few hours. I can meet you at your house and make dinner if that’s agreeable.’

Will smiles down at his phone, settling out in his office chair where he’d be spending the afternoon. ‘I am free, and I look forward to it. Thank you, darlin’.’

‘You’re welcome, beloved. See you tonight.’

He sets his phone aside, ignoring the urge to text him a heart emoji like a teenager, and gets to work.

After his afternoon lecture, he organizes the Ripper kills from earliest to latest. There are twenty-nine victims that the FBI knows about in eight years. Will knows there's more than that, but the cases were likely not classified as Ripper victims. The known cases in front of him are only victims of the sounders. None are the brutal kills he does in between. 

He starts with the earliest cases regarding the Ripper, which started about eight years ago, now. His earlier work was more theatrical, and he's hoping he can find a correlation to a piece of artwork, maybe. Something that will point him in the right direction. His earliest scenes are the ones that Will hasn’t had the opportunity to see, as he wasn’t looking into the Ripper, then. They also happened to be the ones that most closely resembled artwork. Whether that artwork actually existed already or not was what Will needed to figure out.

The Ripper’s second known victim is a horrific scene. The crime scene photo is a man that's been skinned alive and laid out on a table. His skin was wrapped around his shoulders like a shawl, the skin of his left arm dangling between his legs to give the illusion of modesty. 

It was... unbelievably disturbing, and Will flinches every time he looks at it. He can't imagine the pain the poor man must have felt while it was happening to him. The heart and liver were removed from this victim. He scours the internet for artwork that depicts a skinning like this, and what he finds stalls him out. The Apostle St. Bartholomew, (1480) Matteo di Giovanni Uffizi Gallery, Florence, Italy. 

There are three other victims that resemble artwork, and it takes the better part of his afternoon to figure out the specific painting each scene replicates as well as their specific origin.

He’s shocked to note that they are all from The Uffizi Gallery. This could potentially be a lead, but he needs to get some more information from the police in that area before he tells Jack about it.

He searches the closest police department in that area and jots down the number before calling it. 

" _Salve, Dipartimento di Polizia. Come posso assisterti_?" a voice answers.

"Good afternoon. This is Will Graham. I'm calling from the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Forgive me, but do you speak any English?"

"Yes, Mr. Graham," the voice replies in a thick accent. "How can I assist you?"

"Maybe you can help me," he says with a sigh. "I was wondering if you had any investigators that might have looked into serial murders that may have happened there about nine or ten years ago? This is kind of a long shot, I know."

"The only inspector that still works with us from that time is Senor Pazzi. Let me transfer you to him."

"Thank you," he says, but the phone is ringing again. 

"Senor Pazzi," a voice answers curtly and clearly busy.

"Hi, this is Will Graham with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Do you have a few minutes, Senor?"

"Of course," he replies. "What can I do to help you?"

"I'm calling a little bit on a whim. We have a serial killer here, someone with a penchant for Italian artwork. I believe he may have lived in Florence at one time. Would you recall any victims of a serial killer that were displayed... I don't know, like fine art? This would be possibly nine or more years ago, now."

"Yes," he replies immediately. " _Il Mostro_. One of his displays was almost exactly _la Primavera_. We caught him, though. He's in prison serving several life sentences."

Will deflates at that, tapping his pen against the desk. "Were there any other suspects? Someone you looked into that maybe didn't pan out?"

"I believe there was a young man," he replies slowly. "I don't recall his name, but I have the booking for him. We questioned him, took fingerprints, all of it. No evidence at all. I can send you the file first thing in the morning, if that's alright? I must dig the box from storage. I am leaving my office now, and I can't be late for my wife again."

Will smiles at that. "That would be fine. Thank you so much, I really appreciate it."

Will gives him his direct fax number, and then he hangs up. It was a long shot, but worth looking into.

He figures this is a good point to finish up for the day, and he practically jogs to his car after work. Just knowing that Hannibal was likely already on his way to his house made him anxious to be there.

It takes him over an hour to get home in all the rain, and he's greeted at his door by two happy dogs and the smell of Hannibal's delicious cooking in his kitchen. "Honey, I'm home," he laughs, and he hears the deep rumble of Hannibal's chuckle from the other room. He ditches his shoulder bag and coat at the door before finding his gorgeous man.

He finds him in the kitchen, white button-down shirt sleeves rolled up his arms, top buttons undone by his throat. He's stirring a pan that smells suspiciously familiar, and Will comes up behind him, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades. "Will," he sighs, leaning back into his touch. 

"Smells like gumbo?" Will asks, running his palms down the hard planes of his chest. 

"What a nose you have on you," Hannibal laughs. "Yes. I have fresh sausage, and I wanted to make some comfort food for you."

"Louisiana style," he chuckles. "You're perfect, you know that?"

"Far from it, but I'm flattered you think so." Hannibal turns in his arms, pressing an aggressive kiss to his mouth. Will sighs into it, and Hannibal licks into his mouth eagerly, earning a laugh from Will who latches onto him in response. 

"All I could think about was that I was coming home to you today," Will admits with a little blush on his cheeks. "You look good in my house."

"I missed you, too," Hannibal grins, leaning forward to capture his mouth again briefly. "Now shoo. I don't want to ruin dinner. Take a shower and by the time you're finished, it should be ready."

"Yessir," Will laughs. He presses one more kiss to Hannibal’s shoulder before gathering up some clothes to change into.

He takes a shower, taking extra care to wash himself thoroughly. He’s hoping that Hannibal will make love to him tonight. The last time was so good that it’s all he’s thought of all week. He’s also trying to lighten the mood that Hannibal’s been in, and so far it seems to be working. 

He heads downstairs, dressed very casually in his nicest cream sweater and beige slacks. Hannibal has commented on how he likes the color of the sweater with Will’s skin, so he wears it to provoke a reaction. 

Hannibal pauses as he serves their dinner at the dining table, raking his eyes up Will's body slowly. "You didn't have to get dressed up for me, Will."

Will grins as he sits to the left of Hannibal, who's pouring them each a glass of wine. "You always look so good for me. Besides, it's just a sweater."

"Cream white. Almost the exact shade of your skin. You're a beauty," he breathes as he leans over to kiss Will on his cheek. "I have no idea what gumbo is supposed to taste like. I hope it’s alright."

"It smells good and looks even better," Will assures him with a smile. "Thank you for this. You’re perfect.”

Hannibal's cheeks tinge pink, and he averts his eyes as Will stares at him. Will can feel that the blush has very little to do with flattery, but more to do with disbelief. It frustrates him, but he doesn’t say anything to point it out.

Will digs into his dinner and the little moan of approval deepens the blush on the other man's cheeks. "Delicious," Will praises. "I haven't had good gumbo in years."

"It's spicier than I imagined," Hannibal replies, letting a heated little breath through his mouth. He sips his wine and goes in for another bite. "The flavors are good, though."

"Because you make the best fucking sausage in the world," Will laughs. "Is there more? Is a protein scramble out of the question for tomorrow?"

"There's more. I brought you a few links because I know you love them. I'll make us breakfast with them tomorrow morning, beloved."

"Work was good today," Will says after a bite of spicy sausage. 

"That's good. I was going to ask you if it's been… eventful." Hannibal says hesitantly, his face carefully neutral. 

“Alana cleared me for field work today,” he says proudly, and Hannibal goes still in the seat next to him.

“That’s… good, Will,” he says after a swallow of his wine. “Have you been asked to consult on anything, yet?”

Will shakes his head. “There’s nothing, really,” Will admits with a shrug. “So I dug out all the boxes on the Ripper. I spent all my spare time today just sorting through his files. There’s so much… it’s honestly a little overwhelming.”

“I have faith in your ability to sort it out,” Hannibal replies while cutting into a sausage. “What about your classes?”

"The students... they're a little... obnoxious. They have endless questions. I get about 20 emails a day from different students asking inane questions like if there's going to be a quiz or if they can get the PowerPoint. I never bothered my professors, so it's a little strange to be dealing with it."

"You never asked questions?" Hannibal asks with an arched eyebrow.

"No," Will replies honestly. "I'd figure it out. I got an email asking me how I'd feel if they recorded my lectures. How do you even respond to that? Why would they even want to?"

"Some people are visual learners," Hannibal offers with a shrug. "It might help them to see you lecture as much as to hear it."

"Well now I feel like a jerk for saying no," Will laughs. "I don't like being filmed or photographed. It makes me self-conscious."

Will scrapes his plate clean, moaning a little bit as he finishes eating. "I'm so glad you enjoyed it, Will.”

"You have no idea," Will replies, leaning over the table to kiss him soundly. "Is it time for dessert?" Will asks.

Hannibal leans away from him, licking his lips. "I'm afraid I didn't bring anything. I could make-"

Will leans forward again and kisses him deeper, licking into his mouth more suggestively, and Hannibal finally gets it. Will pulls away, and Hannibal's pupils are blown-out, amber rings around black. "Oh," he says with a grin. 

"Oh," Will repeats, nipping at his bottom lip with a chuckle. "I want you inside of me, Hannibal," he sighs. Hannibal's breath leaves him in a stutter, and Will grins as he leans in to kiss him again. "I want you inside me for fucking hours."

Hannibal kisses him softly, trailing his mouth down his jawline and tickling his throat with his long fingers. "Feed your dogs while I clean up. Later, Will," Hannibal promises him. Will's insides go molten with the promise, and he nods absently. 

"Get a move on then," Will grins, standing to take their plates in the kitchen. He watches Hannibal move around his kitchen easily while he feeds his dogs. Hannibal looks good in his house. He’s completely ready for him to be living here full-time. Christmas felt like miles away. 

While Hannibal washes the dishes, Will feeds the dogs from the container of food he made for them the day before. He gives them fresh water, then joins Hannibal in drying the dishes and putting them away. 

Hannibal touches his hip as they finish the dishes, pressing him into his old cabinets hard enough that they creek with his weight. "I can smell the joy on you, beloved," he sighs, leaning in to nip along Will's neck, licking the skin and suckling it into his mouth. Will moans and rolls his head back, giving him better access to whatever he wants. 

"You can smell my happiness?" Will laughs. "What does that smell like?"

"Sweet," Hannibal replies immediately. "You like having me here."

"Yes," Will agrees easily. "I love you in my house," he leans in to tug Hannibal's bottom lip into his mouth. "I love you in my life," Will says before licking into his mouth briefly. "I love when you’re inside of me," he teases, and Hannibal groans as he tugs him by his belt loops so their hips align and press together deliciously.

"Torturous creature," Hannibal says while leaning in for a possessive little kiss. His tongue glides hotly against Will's own, staking claim as well as showing devotion. Will feels like he could eat him alive, the feeling is so intense. Will pulls away from his mouth, laughing while Hannibal nips down his jaw. "Is something funny?"

"You trigger cute aggression in me," Will says while a blush heats his cheeks. "I look at you and I just want to bite you. Squeeze you until you're miserable. I've never understood the phenomenon before you."

"You may bite me, if you really want to," Hannibal purrs, sliding Will's sweater up and off of his torso. "I understand the sentiment entirely. Sometimes I want nothing more than to tear you open and live inside of you."

Will arches against him as he glides down Will's chest with his tongue, trapping his nipple between sharp teeth. Will flinches but encourages it with a little moan of approval. "You can be inside of me, Hannibal. You don't need to tear me open for it."

The gorgeous man moans low in his throat at the thought, tugging the skin over his heart into his mouth and bruising it with his teeth. "I'd never hurt you, Will. I'd sooner cut myself open and place you by my heart. It's yours, anyway. You may as well stake your claim."

"Take me upstairs," Will grins while tugging him back up to his feet. "Make love to me, Hannibal."

He doesn't need to be asked twice. Will squeaks as Hannibal lifts him easily, and Will latches onto his strong shoulders, his legs wrapping around his narrow waist as Hannibal takes him up the stairs. 

He gets set down on his fluffy mattress, and Hannibal immediately unbuttons his own shirt, sliding it from his shoulders. "Will," he breathes out as he settles over him, licking a trail of fire down Will's chest. This beautiful man loves him, and Will's eyes water as Hannibal leans forward to kiss him soundly, tracing his fingers delicately under the hollows of his eyes. "My beloved," he sighs, pressing gentle kisses to his cheek. 

Something in Hannibal’s reverent attention feels… relieved, somehow. It’s almost as if he didn’t expect to have Will again like this, and it distracts him a bit while Hannibal worships him. 

By the time Hannibal eases into his body, Will can feel the sense of desperate hope clinging to his partner with every thrust of his hips. He is afraid of losing Will, and he can feel it like it’s a second skin on himself. Will lets him thrust harder, kiss deeper. He lets Hannibal mark him with his mouth, grip him with hands that are a little too rough.

Whatever his partner needs to let him know that he’s still here. He’s not leaving.

It’s the first time they’ve been intimate where Will is hyper-aware of the fact that Hannibal isn’t absorbed in it like he usually is. He’s desperate, somehow. Will can feel the ache of expected loss, the anxiety-ridden drive behind each and every one of his partner’s actions. He is so busy reading Hannibal’s emotions that he didn’t really get to enjoy it the way that he usually does. It’s still wonderful, but… absent, somehow.

It’s over far sooner than Will wants it to be, and he tries to soothe Hannibal by stroking his back softly, but it’s not working.

Hannibal is crushing him in a tight embrace, and Will touches his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Hannibal,” he says softly. “It’s okay.”

Hannibal seems to realize that he’s holding him just a touch too tightly, and he relaxes his grip. “Forgive me.”

Will kisses him again, stroking his fingers against his cheek. “It’s alright,” he says softly. 

“I hurt you, didn’t I?” he asks hesitantly, and Will shakes his head. His partner is touching the marks that he’s left on Will’s body, his mouth pinched with regret.

“You didn’t,” Will assures him, kissing his cheek again. “It’s fine, Hannibal. Whatever is wrong… we’re going to get through it. Okay?”

Hannibal nods while gliding his thumb across Will’s jawline. “I love you, Will.”

“I know,” Will says, smiling softly while stroking Hannibal’s hair. “You’re the love of my life, Hannibal. We’re going to be okay.”

His partner doesn’t look very convinced, but he settles out against Will’s chest, stroking his skin reverently with his fingertips. It takes a long time for Will to drift off, but sleep eventually finds him.

He wakes alone again the next morning, and he does his morning routine in the upstairs bathroom before coming down to his partner in his kitchen. Hannibal is dressed in a soft gray sweater and black slacks, and the whole room smells like good coffee and fresh sausage. “Good morning, beloved,” he says with a soft smile as Will walks into the kitchen.

Will wraps his arms around his waist from behind, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Morning, darlin’. Smells good.”

“Protein scramble,” Hannibal replies while stirring a pan of fluffy eggs and sausage, little bits of mushroom and pepper throughout. “I know you enjoyed it the last time I made it for you.”

Will leaves him to finish their food, taking the dog food pan from the fridge to feed his two desperate dogs. Once they're fed, he gets pours two cups of coffee and follows Hannibal into the dining room where they sit down to eat. “Thanks for cooking,” Will says softly, humming around a delicious bite of the scramble. “God, that’s good.”

Hannibal smiles while spearing a slice of sausage. “Did you sleep well?” he asks.

Will glances carefully up at him, noting the darkness under his eyes and the tired set of his mouth. “Once I fell asleep, I slept well. Had a hard time getting there, though. You don’t look like you slept much.”

Hannibal swallows his bite of food, sipping his coffee. “Had a bit on my mind, unfortunately.”

Will sets his fork down after another bite, reaching for his own coffee cup. “I don’t know how many more ways I can tell you that I won’t leave you, but… I guess time will show you. I wish you’d just talk to me.”

Hannibal eats in silence, but Will can feel the tension that escaping his carefully constructed façade. When it becomes clear that he’s not going to say anything, Will sighs and continues eating as well.

He helps Hannibal clean up while his dogs are outside, each of them gathering their things for the day. When they leave the house, Hannibal kisses him like he’s never going to kiss him again, and Will lets him do it.

Even though it’s starting to frighten him.

He gets into work and begins his morning class when Jack stalks into his lecture hall, "Everybody out!" he thunders, pointing towards the exit. His students exchange worried looks while gathering their things. Will stares at Jack, wondering what the hell has happened that warrants ending his class like this. “There’s a body upstairs,” he says gruffly while his students file out. “It might be a Ripper victim. I’d like you to take a look.”

Will does his best not to be hurt by the revelation, crossing his arms defensively. “Why wasn’t I called to the scene?”

Jack lets out a breath, glancing down at Will’s desk. “We didn’t know that it was the Ripper. Once we brought the victim to the lab, we realized… there’s parts missing. The body had been in the abandoned mill at least since Sunday. It’s… a mess, Will. Go upstairs and take a look for me… I’ll be up shortly.”

Will nods while packing up his things.

He goes into the lab, slightly hurt that he wasn't called out to the scene when the smell that hits him as he comes in almost makes him gag. Jimmy and Brian are working on the body, gowned up and grimacing with clipboards in hand. “Hey,” he greets them softly.

“Good to have you back,” Jimmy says brightly while scraping something from the body.

“Thanks,” he replies absently. “Who found the victim?”

"A couple of homeless guys went into the abandoned mill on Main Street to get out of the rain early this morning," Brian chimes in.

"They didn't even see the body, the smell alone made them find the police." Price finishes for him.

"Rats have been going at him for four or five days," Brian shivers. "There's not much of him left."

"So how do we know it was the Ripper?" Will asks, wandering over to the table to look at the body. Or what's left of it. It’s in full decomposition, and Will winces when he notices all the tiny bites all over the body. The abdomen was gutted open, and the cut might have been precise before the rats got to it.

"What's left of him should still be more," Jimmy replies. "Surgical cuts to his abdomen and chest. Missing organs. The way the body was laid out was... artistic. At least mostly. We didn’t recognize the body as a Ripper victim immediately. There were bloody rat prints all over the place."

"Something that will give me nightmares for the rest of my life, thanks," Brian sighs.

“Bev is still at the scene, trapping rats in hopes that there might be evidence on one of the little nightmares. I seriously doubt it, though,” Jimmy sighs. “Wherever the Ripper was, he’s back from vacation.”

“There are crime scene photos that I’m sure Jack will want you to take a look at,” Brian tells him. “We should have called you out to the scene, but… we just didn’t know.”

“It feels unusual for him, doesn’t it?” Jimmy asks with a frown on his face. “He usually displays them somewhere where they’re found within twenty-four hours. This one… it’s like he was ashamed of it.”

“It isn’t his usual style,” Will agrees while walking around the table. “He’s been on a hiatus. Maybe… maybe he’s trying to stop?”

“Or maybe he’s getting too old for this?” Jimmy wonders. “I know you said that you think he’s younger, but… if he’s not, then that would explain it, too. Hiding a body away for four or five days makes it look like he might've made a mistake? We're talking to anyone who might've noticed a car or a suspicious person, but so far no dice.”

"What have we found out?" Will asks, and Price makes a face.

"Mark Holden, 42. Accused pedophile. Got away with it because the evidence they obtained on him was in a shed, off his property. The search warrant didn't specify that they'd be searching it," Jimmy begins.

"And they searched it anyway. Got some tapes of him, as well as some photos. Judge let him walk because of the illegally obtained evidence." Brian finishes for him.

"You think the Ripper knew that about him?" Jimmy wonders. 

"I doubt that," Will replies. "What did he do for a living?"

"Managed the Baltimore Trust," Brian replies. "Upper crust yahoo if there ever was one."

"Not a just cause for being killed by itself," Jimmy muses.

"Pedophilia is, though," Brian shrugs. "I'm on the Ripper's side on this one. Should have gutted him twice."

"So if he didn't know he was a sicko, then why did he kill him?" Jimmy wonders.

Will shrugs. "If he's well off, he might know him personally, or know of him. He might have been rude to him at some point. Maybe he knew about his proclivities because rich people love to talk shit about each other."

"Not just rich people," Jimmy retorts dryly.

"What was taken from the body?" Will asks as he paces the lab.

"Liver, kidneys, and intestines. There may have been a chunk taken from his shoulder, but… we don’t know if that was the Ripper or the rats." Brian says with a martyred sigh. "Why, I have no idea."

“All these sickos taking people’s intestines,” Jimmy frowns, walking around the body with a clipboard. “What is wrong with the world?”

"Maybe he does some kind of ritual with them?" Will wonders aloud. "Burns them, something like that."

"Or he's making sausage," Jimmy jokes, but Will goes still. 

Kidneys. Heart. Liver. Lungs. Intestines. All things that the Ripper has taken from bodies.

Offal.

"He's eating them," Will realizes. Jimmy and Brian exchange worried looks between them, and then look to Will in disgusted confusion. "Offal."

"Christ," Brian sighs and Jimmy looks like he's about to be sick. 

"He does take parts other than organs sometimes," Jimmy agrees with a wince. "Shoulders, thighs. I think you're right."

"Someone needs to let Jack know," Will replies, and his stomach turns as he wonders how someone could eat another human being. 

Brian grimaces while looking down at the body. "He's coming down here shortly."

Will nods, thinking of the fax that he’s been waiting on. With any luck, the Ripper's entire booking is sitting in his fax machine. "I'm waiting on a fax from someone. If he needs me, I'll be in my office."

Will leaves and heads back to his desk, raking through the faxes that have come in. His hands still when he comes across a photo of Hannibal. He huffs a breath down at it, wondering why he's getting a fax of his beautiful face, and then he realizes who sent it.

His stomach drops out as he falls to his knees. This photo is the other suspect in the _Il Mostro_ killings. Hannibal. 

His hands are shaking as he stares at it, hoping he's wrong. He rechecks the sender, as well as the message. 

'Only other suspect in the killings, but no evidence.' Hannibal Lecter, and then it lists all of his information. His date of birth, age, race, height, weight.

Will's stomach lurches, and he grabs at his waste bucket to vomit his breakfast. His fucking breakfast that Hannibal made him. 

A protein scramble made with homemade sausage. 

He sobs as he vomits, and his stomach clenches up as there's nothing else to expel. 

How could he have been so fucking blind? How did he miss this with his empathy disorder? Shouldn't he have felt that the man he was in love with was a psychopath? A serial killer? 

Hannibal. Maybe he was wrong? Some kind of horrible mistake?

He sits on the floor, trying to clear his head. The timeline matches up perfectly. Hannibal moved here eight years ago, and the killings started almost instantly. He was a suspect in Italy, where Hannibal has admitted to living.

He's just finished making sausage, immediately after a body shows up missing intestines. His gumbo was made of Mark Holden. His breakfast too, for that matter. His beloved partner smoked sausages that were made from human parts.

He tries to think back to four nights ago. He was with Hannibal at his house until eight or nine? If it was Sunday night that he killed Holden, it's still plenty of time for him to leave and… kill someone. He stands abruptly and goes to his desk, rummaging through the files until he finds his profile on the Ripper. He can barely think right now, and he wants to go over it.

White but exotic, somehow. Well-off, single, never married. Practiced as a surgeon or mortician. Will sits in his chair because his legs have decided to give out. "Surgical training," he says out loud while his vision narrows. Purveyor of the arts. Hannibal can sketch, compose music, and cook. He adores controversial artwork; he has Leda and the fucking Swan over his dining table. 

Will always knew the Ripper wasn't in his fifties like the FBI profilers thought. He would have to be in his prime to do the displays he can do, and Will wasn't wrong. The Ripper is thirty-five, and in incredibly good health.

He sits numbly for what he thinks is only a few minutes, but it's actually closer to an hour. He's been stupid. So, incredibly, stupid to miss this. 

What he doesn't understand is _why_. Why would Hannibal begin a relationship with one of the only people who could see through his mask? Why would he get Will this job? He literally handed Will the keys to figure out who he is.

Unless he likes to play games. Will's stomach lurches at the thought. Hannibal doesn't love him. He never has. He's not capable of it. 

The only person Will has ever honestly loved wasn't real. He loves a shadow. A figment. A fake persona that Hannibal puts forward for the world to hide who he really is. 

And who he is, is a serial killing cannibal.

Will's tears aren't a surprise, but the heavy feeling of loss and regret certainly is.

He takes his gun from the drawer, tucking it into the back of his slacks. Before he does anything else, he needs to talk to him. It's another stupid decision, as Hannibal would likely kill him the moment Will lets him know that he sees him, now.

Any self-preservation he has is decidedly absent. He's not suicidal, but at the same time, he doesn't care if Hannibal kills him. Once it gets out that he was in love with the Chesapeake Ripper, his life is over, anyway.

No one will believe that he spent as much time with him as he did and yet knew nothing. Even if it's the truth, a profiler should have an idea, shouldn’t they?

This is going to cost him, in every single way that it can.

He swipes at the tears on his face and packs up everything that he’s written down about the Ripper, as well as the fax that came in. He goes straight to Jack's office, who looks surprised to see him. "Wow, is everything alright, Will?" he asks.

"I, uh," he licks his lips, glancing away. "I just vomited all my breakfast in my office. I think I'm going to head home for the day. I'm not well at all."

Jack nods, glancing at his probably terrible pallor and his shaking hands. "Sure. I'll get Alana to cover your afternoon class. Maybe… maybe asking you to consult on this case came too soon?”

Will flinches at that, averting his eyes to the floor. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

“Maybe you should speak with Dr. Bloom?” Jack wonders and Will shakes his head. 

“Maybe tomorrow,” Will offers and Jack nods.

“Go home and rest, then. Take care of yourself.”

Will nods, still avoiding eye contact. "Thanks, Jack."

"Feel better, Will," he replies before getting back to whatever he was working on. 

Will debates going straight to Hannibal's office, but he decides against that. He'd go to his house. He wants to see if he can find anything that proves it while Hannibal isn't home. There's still a small, naïve part of him that hopes he's wrong, somehow.

It's barely noontime when he pulls up to Hannibal's house. He uses his key to let himself in and wastes no time in rummaging through his kitchen. There are more sausages in the fridge, as well as a vacuum sealed package of something that might be a liver. At least a part of one, anyway.

It doesn't prove it, though. Not without lab testing, and he doesn't want to wait for that or draw attention in that way. 

Hannibal would need somewhere to work to do what he does. It might not be here in his house, but it's got to be somewhere. He goes through each room looking for clues or evidence, but he finds nothing. He steps into Hannibal's pantry, and that's when he notices the little ridge in the floor. 

He bends down to look at it and realizes that it lifts up. He lifts the hidden door, and his stomach turns to lead as he realizes it leads to a room. A basement.

A _hidden_ fucking basement.

He goes down the stairs slowly, clicking on an industrial looking light switch on the walls, and what he finds makes him go cold. 

His basement is filled with medical instruments, a stainless-steel table, bone saws, and refrigerators. 

If there was any doubt at all, it is long gone, now. He falls to the cement floor and cries. The sobs wrack him until he feels like he's about to faint, and he pulls his legs up under his chin, wrapping his arms around his knees. 

It smells like bleach, and Will wonders if he had luminol if there would be any inch of the room that wouldn't glow blue.

He wonders just how many people saw this room as the last thing they'd see. How many people died looking up at the face that he loves so dearly? His beautiful monster.

He's down there for hours, just staring out at nothing at all. He's vaguely aware of the little bit of pain at his entrance. Sitting on the concrete floor is hurting him because just the night before, he asked Hannibal to make love to him.

The ache is a reminder of just how much he's allowed himself to be manipulated.

This. This is what Hannibal has been trying to tell him about for months. When Hannibal told him that he’d let Will see him on Sunday, he went out and slaughtered another pig so Will would know. Why?

Because he wants to be caught, or because he’s done with the charade of a relationship between them? Will has no idea, but he’s not planning to die in this basement like countless others. 

He takes the gun from his slacks and checks to make sure it's loaded, and the safety is off before standing back up. He wouldn't meet his monster for the first time while laying out on the floor. He's allowed Hannibal to see him on his back enough already.

He feels dizzy from dehydration and not eating, but the thought alone of putting anything in his mouth is revolting. 

"Will?" he hears his beautiful liar call from upstairs. He backs up against the metal table, raising his gun up towards the staircase. 

There are hesitant footsteps, and then Hannibal's drawn face comes around the corner from the stairs. His jaw is clenched tight, while his eyes... his eyes are flat. Empty. If Will didn’t know better, he’d say his monster was afraid.

" _Il Mostro_ ," Will says, and he's pissed off by how hurt his voice sounds. It waivers as he speaks, and his vision goes blurry with a sheen of tears before he blinks them away. "Imagine my surprise when I look into other suspects for the _Il Mostro_ killings, and I get a fucking fax with your face on it."

"Will," he says softly, raising a placating hand while he steps forward carefully.

"Stay right the fuck where you are," Will blurts out, pointing the gun with more conviction. He shakes his head while a few more traitorous tears fall. "What am I to you? A project? A little game? A fucking distraction? Tell me."

"You were... unexpected," he says. "I never meant for this to happen, Will."

"Liar," Will spits, and his voice breaks on a sob. "You fucking got me a job with the FBI. Why? Did you want to be caught? Or were you certain I was too damaged to actually catch you?"

"I wanted you to be the best version of yourself," Hannibal responds, and Will notices the sheen on his eyes. "If that meant you were the one to catch me, then so be it."

"I've lost everyone I've ever loved," Will whispers, and his hand shakes while he's holding the gun. "You _know_ it, too. Why fuck with me, Hannibal? Why couldn't you pick someone else to emotionally torment? Is it because of my gift? Does it make it more fun for you to ruin me?"

"You think I don't love you," Hannibal replies, and a single tear tracks down his sharp cheekbone. "You know I do. You know it, Will. You've felt it. I've never lied to you. I've never hurt you. I never will, either. If you think about this, you'd know it's true."

"You've _tortured_ people," Will replies. "You flayed a man alive, peeled the skin right off him. That's how I figured you out. Your little display eight years ago. The Apostle St. Bartholomew."

"I stopped the artwork displays soon after that," Hannibal replies, stepping to the side and essentially freeing the exit. "I figured tying myself to my past work was... not without risk. It seems I was right."

"Were you planning to kill me, too?" Will asks, and he hates that his voice breaks as he asks it. "I've been rude to you, Doctor Lecter."

He looks hurt that Will would even ask, and he shakes his head. "I just told you that I'll never hurt you. Never, Will. I’d sooner let you kill me than raise my hand to you. I love you, Will. So dearly."

"Stop," Will pleads, hunching over as his stomach turns and his eyes water fiercely. "Don't fucking lie to me, anymore."

"Kill me, if you feel you must," Hannibal says instead. "It feels good to kill those that deserve it, doesn't it? You said so yourself. You could watch me die here, in the very room where I’ve killed so many others. Would that feel good, Will? To watch me bleed out as you watched Owen? Would my final breath stir feelings of righteousness or regret?”

"Hannibal," Will warns him, his voice steeling with resolve as he straightens his spine and points the gun more firmly. 

"Kill me, or call Jack to take me in. Make a decision."

"And what am I supposed to do once you're gone?" he asks, and a sob escapes his mouth. "I love you. I love you more than I've loved anyone. Did you not think of what this would do to me? What the hell am I going to do?" He lowers the gun, dropping it to the floor with a dull, metallic, clunk. It's pointless to keep waving it around because he's crying too much to see, anyway. "Kill me, Hannibal. Kill me and go. Leave here, start your life over somewhere else."

"Never," Hannibal says softly, and Will realizes that he's gotten too close. He grabs at Will's elbow and hauls him against his chest, and Will doesn't fight. He feels like he wouldn't even if he could. "Never, beloved."

"Hannibal," he sobs, gripping the soft material of his sweater in his sweaty palms. The spicy, woodsy, scent of him soothes him, and it shouldn't. God, it shouldn't, but it _does_. This man was a murderer. A fucking cannibal.

Realization dawns that he's both of those things too, now.

The man that Will had killed deserves what he got, though. He knows his reasoning is shit because he's certain Hannibal feels the same way about the people he's killed. There is _no_ justification for murder. No good reason for it in any way, shape, or form, but Will's excused himself from the act on the basis of justice. He's sure Hannibal is no different.

His conscience is trying to justify what Hannibal does, and it sickens him. He wants to understand why, but there is no reason why. Nothing he says is going to make what he does better, and Will either needs to accept it and accept him or let him go. 

Killing him is not an option, and neither is capturing him. It would ruin Will's life, either way.

Will lets him go, stepping back a bit from his strong arms that are holding him up. Hannibal uses the sleeve of his soft sweater to wipe the tears from Will's face, and he does it gently. Sweetly. "Will," he sighs. "I wanted you to know me. I wanted you to see me. I wanted this… but… your reaction is much worse than I expected.”

"What did you _think_ I would do?" Will asks softly. "If I turn you in, no one is going to believe that I’ve spend this much time with you and had no idea what you were. Even if by some miracle they do believe you tricked me like this, I’ll still lose my job. Worse than anything else, you’ll be… gone. I don’t… I don’t think I’ll survive that. I am clearly fucking insane because losing you sounds worse than anything else.”

"So what do you want?" Hannibal asks, tipping his chin up so their eyes meet. Hannibal's own eyes are damp, and his cheeks are wet. Will reaches up absently to wipe at them, and Hannibal's eyes close. His mouth parts while Will's thumb brushes his tears from his sharp cheekbone, and Will aches from it. 

"Time," Will replies softly. "I need time."

"Then you'll have it," Hannibal says softly. "You know how I feel about you, Will. Open your gift to me, please."

" _No_ ," Will says sharply, and Hannibal grips his arm, turning his face up forcefully. "No, Hannibal."

"Please," Hannibal asks, and his tone is pleading. Desperate. "I'm not hiding from you, anymore."

"It doesn't matter if you love me or not," Will replies harshly. "What _matters_ is the countless people you've killed and tortured. That's what matters, Hannibal."

"If that's the only truth, then I'd be in custody or dead. Open your gift and look at me."

“I don’t need to do that!” Will spits out, tearing away from him to pace a few steps back. “I fucking know, Hannibal. I know how you feel, even if it makes no sense that you feel it. How can you love me? _How_?”

Hannibal swipes at his face, stepping further away from Will to give him more room. “You were the one that said that everyone is capable of love,” he says softly.

“And everyone is capable of cruelty,” Will agrees, his shoulders slumping with worn out adrenaline. “You fed them to me, Hannibal.”

His… partner? Former partner? Will has no fucking idea what he is to him, anymore. He stays silent for a few moments. “Let’s go upstairs where we can speak about this,” Hannibal says softly, relaxing his posture enough that Will lets out a relieved breath.

“Don’t want me in your murder basement?” Will asks while glancing around the sterile room in disgust.

“No,” Hannibal agrees with a tight swallow. “I don’t.”

Will follows him upstairs reluctantly, following him into his kitchen where he slumps at the counter. A glass of water is placed down in front of him, and then he sits to Will’s side cautiously. Will sips his water, as he’s dizzy and nauseous. “The man that killed my sister,” Hannibal begins warily, and Will closes his eyes while he decides if he even wants to hear this. “There were two others on the property that he was… friends with. After my father passed, they had planned to take over the estate. One of the men found me in the barn with the bodies, and… I did not know that the man I killed was his brother.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Will asks, but there’s no heat in his words. Just genuine curiosity.

Hannibal hesitates, his fingers tugging at the sleeve of his sweater. “The man was furious that I killed his brother. They tied me up while they argued about what was to be done with me, as they had hoped to use me for ransom. My sister’s body was taken from the barn, and I had no idea what they did with her. A few days passed, and I was near death from exposure…”

Will fights the urge to comfort him, as immeasurable grief is pouring off of him like a wave. “The brother came out to me, offering me soup while I lay on death’s doorstep. He looked pleased by his decision to feed me, and I was so hungry and thirsty that I ate without question. Once the bowl was finished, he asked me how my sister tasted.”

“Fuck,” Will gasps, hunching over as the liquid in his stomach rolls unpleasantly. “Hannibal, my God.”

“I didn’t believe him, but… a few days later the police came to see if everything was alright, as no one had seen my father in weeks. They found her body in the back, gutted. They fed her to me, Will. The men fled into the surrounding woods, where the police chased them. They are in prison even still, from what I understand.”

It was a wonder that Hannibal was able to function at all, given his history. His compulsions finally made a bit of sense, not that it made them any better. “I’m… sorry that you went through that. You… you can’t imagine how much I wish I could take that pain from you. It doesn’t change the fact that you understand how it feels to be fed another person. Why would you do that to me?”

Hannibal grimaces, glancing away. “It’s no longer revolting to me. Years later, it’s just something I do.”

Will sips his water, trying his best to calm his frayed nerves. “How many have there been?”

Hannibal shakes his head, shrugging his shoulders. “I couldn’t even begin to guess. More than fifty, less than a hundred. I don’t know, Will.”

“Christ,” Will breathes out while fresh tears track down his face. He swipes at them angrily, giving into the urge to touch Hannibal’s arm. Hannibal tenses under the touch, glancing down at Will’s hand warily. “Did you know Mark Holden was a pedophile?”

Hannibal nods. “I overheard someone speaking about it at the opera,” Hannibal replies. “He was a horrible man, and I didn’t doubt it in the least.”

“You fed me a fucking pedophile,” Will says heatedly, glaring up at Hannibal’s somewhat contrite face. “Do you know how disgusting that is?”

“He was worthless in life,” Hannibal replies. “I gave him a use in his death.”

Will shakes his head, groaning while covering his face in his hands. He’s eaten people. Hannibal has fed him human beings. For fucking months, probably. He’s eaten his food and adored his cooking and fallen so in love with him that he’s ready to… to what? Forgive this? Forgive him? Accept him? He doesn’t think he can.

“When you met me,” Will says eventually, turning in his seat so he can see Hannibal’s face. “I was in no position to ever figure you out. As a private investigator, I would never have known, Hannibal. Why would you give me the means to see you like this?”

“I wanted you to see me,” Hannibal replies, and the honesty of it is startling. “I see something in you, Will. A darkness. A vengeful, beautiful creature that I think can understand me.”

“I have a fucking empathy disorder,” Will spits out, glaring up at him angrily. “I can understand _anyone_ , Hannibal.”

Hannibal shakes his head. “But you understand the darker side of my nature intimately, don’t you? You told me that you liked seeing Owen bleed out. That you watched his last breath leave him and felt euphoric. Were you lying to me?”

Will sobs, turning away from him while shaking his head. “No, I didn’t lie to you. I… I liked it. Oh, fuck, what is wrong with me?” Will asks despondently, the few sips of water that he’s swallowed rolling in his stomach.

“Nothing,” Hannibal replies with conviction in his voice. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with you, my beloved.”

Will stands up and heads to the foyer to get his shoulder bag, walking back into the kitchen with a few sheets of paper. He places them down on the counter, and Hannibal swallows audibly when he realizes it’s the fax from Italy with his face on it. “Burn these,” Will says softly. “No one knows about it aside from me, and… I don’t want anyone to ever see them.”

Hannibal goes completely still, his eyes trailing up to Will’s face. “Are you done with me, Will?”

Will laughs, but it’s a hollow, brittle thing. “Do you know how fiercely I love you?” he asks accusingly. “Do you have any God damned idea? You’ve put me in the middle of this, and… it’s like you expected me to what? Fucking thrill at the idea that I’m a cannibal, now? Embrace this thing inside of me and celebrate it? I don’t know, Hannibal. I don’t know if I can forgive you. The thought of never seeing you again…” he gasps while his stomach rolls at the thought. “It’s painful,” Will admits while tears escape his eyes. “The thought of eating at your table again doesn’t sound good, either. I don’t know what I want right now.”

“You asked me for time,” Hannibal recalls softly, glancing back up to Will’s face. “I will give it to you.”

“Don’t you fucking leave me in the meantime,” Will says sharply while snatching Hannibal’s jaw to force his eyes up to his own. “Don’t pack up and disappear. I swear to you that I won’t call in the cavalry in return.”

“Oh Will,” he sighs, his eyes searching Will’s face. “You don’t seem to understand. I couldn’t leave you even if I wanted to. If you called Jack this very moment, I’d wait for him to come. If you decided to finish me with your brand of justice, I’d give you the knife to do it. If you decided to stay with me, I’d love you until I no longer draw breath. I would do anything for you.”

Will whimpers at that, swiping at the tears on his face and trying to gain his bearings. “Would you stop killing?”

Hannibal goes still again, his mouth parting in surprise. He swipes at his face absently, clearing his throat. “If you want that. Yes.”

Will tries to find comfort in that. He really does, but it’s… absent, somehow. Caging the lion doesn’t hold the appeal that it should. If he decides to stay, he needs to be able to say it while accepting Hannibal for who he is, flaws (big goddamn cannibalistic, murderous, flaws) and all. “I’m going to ask you not to kill anyone else while I… decide. If I decide that I don’t want to be with you anymore… I still won’t turn you in. You can… do whatever you do, and I won’t find you. I won’t look for you. Will you let me go if that’s what I want?”

Hannibal nods. “If you don’t want me,” he says, and a tear escapes his eye at the thought. “I won’t hurt you, Will.”

“Give me time, okay?” Will asks. “Don’t reach out. Don’t drop by. I’ll reach out to you when I’m ready.”

“I love you, Will,” he says softly. “So very much.”

“I know,” Will sighs. “My love for you is the only reason you aren’t in handcuffs or dead right now.”

Hannibal lets out a relieved breath, closing his eyes briefly while the tension leaves his shoulders. “For which I’m endlessly grateful.”

There isn’t much else to say, so Will takes his shoulder bag and leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I could have edited and edited this and it STILL would not be what I want it to be. BUT I am sharing it anyway. You guys have been dear and sweet, and I am STILL promising you a happy ending for these two, even though it doesn't feel like it right now.
> 
> More to come tomorrow! Thank you all for your kudos and comments. It's fuel for the Hannigram fire <333


	28. Chapter 28

The rest of the week drags by. Will has no idea what he wants, or what he’s going to do. He works, he takes care of his dogs, he breathes in and out and he lives, but he’s a ghost. The very idea of never seeing Hannibal again is revolting, but so is the idea of lying in bed while Hannibal is out murdering some poor slob who was rude to him in some way.

He knows what Hannibal wants. He wants an equal. He wants Will by his side when he takes a life. Will can picture it, and it disgusts him that the thought does not cause distress like it should. He imagines Hannibal, bloodied and dangerous, his amber eyes glinting in the dark as he and Will shred someone open. He knows what it would smell like, the coppery tang of blood in the air, his heart racing while Hannibal watches him with pride and adoration in his eyes. 

What he doesn’t know is what Hannibal’s lips would taste like when they’re covered in blood. He imagines their sweetness would still shine through. 

While the thought isn’t disgusting as it should be, it still causes him wariness. Will can’t imagine hunting another human being. He can’t imagine what kind of person they would have to be to provoke Will into doing so. 

He knows he has darkness in him, but he doesn’t think that the darkness in him is that fucking dark. If he were to engage in something so horrible…. 

He can’t even believe he’s allowing the thought headroom, but if he were to join Hannibal in such a way, the person would have to be truly vile. Not just someone who misspoke at the grocery store.

The weekend comes and goes, and Will spends it in his house, lonely and absolutely miserable. He misses Hannibal. He misses him so much it feels like he’s going to have a panic attack, but he doesn’t call.

He certainly doesn’t stop by. 

He imagines the rest of his life like this. Hannibal absent from him while he does his best to become as complacent with his loneliness as he was before he met him. The thought is repellant, and Will already knows he won’t recover from this loss. It’s not like Molly or Elijah. It’s unlike anything he’s ever had in his life. If Will believed in such a thing, he would go as far as to say that Hannibal was his soulmate. All Will had to do was just… accept him. He’s trying, but… his conscience is fighting him every step of the way.

He gets called out to a scene at the Baltimore Opera House. A man has been transformed into a musical instrument. The beauty of the scene screams the Ripper, but he knows it’s not him. Bev is hunched over the body, touching the strings on the neck of the violin that’s protruding from the man’s throat. “They’re catgut strings,” Bev says disgustedly. “How much do you want to bet they’re made of the intestines we’ve found missing from his other victims?”

Jimmy is sorting through the bouquets of flowers that are strewn about the stage, whistling. “Petunias and yellow carnations,” he says meaningfully. “Anger, resentment, and disdain. Someone pissed this guy off.”

“It’s a display for someone else,” Will says softly, walking around the body carefully. “The killer was courting someone, and… from the looks of it, he was rejected.”

“Is it possible the one who rejected him was the victim?” Jack wonders.

“Not likely,” Brian chimes in. “Vic is new to the area. Just moved here with his wife from Boston, actually. He’s brand new to the opera house, first show was Faust in fact.”

Jack grunts, pacing the stage while rubbing his jaw. “So, who the fuck rejected him?”

“Looks like a Ripper scene, doesn’t it?” Bev says absently. “We know it’s not, but… the vocal cords were treated with something. I bet this body makes noise if you… ugh. If you play it.”

While the lab sorts through all the evidence, or lack-there-of, Will continues his lectures and tries to remember to breathe.

The following week isn’t any better, and he’s not eating the way he should. He barely sleeps. Bev notices his change in appearance and his sallow cheeks, and she tugs him aside after his lecture on Thursday. “What’s going on, Graham? You look fucking terrible.”

“Hannibal and I…” Will says slowly, glancing down at his desk. “We had a fight. I don’t know that we’re going to… uh,”

“Shit,” she sighs. “I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head, forcing himself to give her a watery smile. “It’s fine. I don’t know what I want to do yet.”

“You still have to eat,” she says softly. “You’re never in the breakroom. You don’t look like you’re sleeping, either. I don’t want you to die on me.”

“I’m not going to die,” Will says while placating her with a little smile. “Even though it feels like it.”

“Want to grab a beer?” she asks hopefully, and he shakes his head.

“Not ready for that yet,” he admits softly. “I’m okay, Bev. Just… distracted.”

“What if I come over and just… I don’t know, sit on your couch? Eat Doritos? I can just be there for you, no words no badgering.” She touches his shoulder, drawing his eyes back up to hers. “Will, you can’t just wither away.”

“If you want to come over tonight…” he sighs, closing his eyes briefly. “Sure, Bev.”

She beams at him and claps his shoulder before promising that she’d be by around six. 

She shows up with pizza and beer, as well as her laptop. Will settles out with her on his couch, somewhat regretting the decision to have her over as well as being thankful that she didn't know how to take 'no' as an answer. “I don’t know why you don’t own a TV,” she says while chewing a slice of pizza. “But I have Netflix on here, so we’re going to pick a movie and eat enough for three people.”

"Never got around to getting a TV," he says with a shrug. "I don't really have time for it."

She scrolls through Netflix, glancing up now and again to see if he's interested in different movies. He's waiting for her to start prying, start asking questions that he has no real answers to, and she never does. What she offered is exactly what she does. No questions, no pointless reassurances that he'd be fine. Just her company and beer. 

She picks some ridiculous movie with murderous alligators, and he eats enough pizza that his stomach is kind of rolling because of it. She’s petting Winston’s head, completely enraptured with the terrible movie, and he’s feeling outrageously thankful for her. “Bev?” he says softly, drawing her eyes away from her laptop on the coffee table. He picks nervously at the label on his beer bottle, averting his eyes from hers. “Thank you.”

She rolls her eyes, smiling. “Any time, Will. It’s what friends are for. Besides, Jimmy won't watch horror movies with me. He gets all creeped and can't sleep after. This is fun, Graham."

He smiles softly, turning back to the laptop while sipping his beer. An alligator eats someone's arm off, and he cringes while Bev laughs. She's not wrong. This is a much better way to spend his night than what he's been doing. 

After that night, she starts texting him randomly throughout the day, and they continue throughout the following weekend. They’re thoughtful little texts that tell him to eat something, go to bed, drink water. He laughs in spite of himself, but he actually does take her advice with each text. 

It's almost midnight on Saturday, and he's sitting outside on his porch with a blanket around his shoulders, sitting with his dogs. She's been texting him on and off for hours, and he's exasperated by her at this point. ‘Go to bed, Graham,’ she texts, and he laughs.

‘Outside with the dogs, then bed. YOU go to bed,’ he texts back.

‘After this episode of Grey’s Anatomy,’ she texts back immediately. ‘And don’t criticize me for my taste in shows.’

He shakes his head, calling his dogs back into the house. ‘Going to bed now,’ he texts her while shutting off lights and locking his doors. His phone is nearly dead from all the texts she’s been sending, so he plugs it in by the end table in the living room and heads up to bed. 

He is barely asleep for an hour when he hears a loud bang and his dogs growling, and he sits up, bleary eyed. His pistol is downstairs, so he grabs a curtain rod and goes downstairs carefully.

He hears his front door open and close, a sharp yip from Winston, and then his dogs are barking from outside the house. Someone was inside with him, and he tries to keep his breathing even while he comes down the stairs. Someone is standing in the dark, a rope or wire hanging from their hand. “Mr. Graham,” a voice calls from the darkness before lunging at him.

Will fights him with everything he’s got in him, landing a few blows with the iron rod that make the man back the fuck off. “Tobias?” Will asks hesitantly once his eyes adjust to the darkness of the living room. Will’s shoulder is throbbing in pain, as Tobias must have struck him with the wooden end of his wire weapon. 

“I’ve been waiting and waiting for him to kill you,” he says eventually, swiping blood off his face from where Will landed a blow. “Hannibal is my perfect partner. He and I… we could understand one another in a way that you never would. After your astounding display of rudeness at the opera, I was certain he would finally kill you, but no. You are a _weakness_ for him, a festering illness that needs to be cut out.”

“Hannibal?” Will asks in disbelief, rubbing the ache out of his shoulder while he steps back towards the end table where he keeps his gun. “What are you talking about?”

“My instrument,” he replies with a flare of annoyance in his tone. “I’ve been courting him, and all he’s done is reject me. I believed he was waiting for me to finish my tableau, but not even then. All he sees is you. Someone who doesn’t deserve him in the slightest.”

Will’s blood freezes in his veins, his heart beating furiously. “You’re the one… the opera house. The catgut made of… of people.”

He rolls his eyes while tugging the piano wire taut between his fists. “As I’ve said, undeserving. You pretend to know him. Sending him flowers that are trite and ridiculous, like a lovesick child. During our session he could barely pay attention to us, and I knew then that I was going to have to remove you. You distract him from his glory, and I have no doubt he’ll thank me for it in the end.” He steps forward and Will steps back, keeping as much distance between them as possible. “I’ll visit him after you’re dead. Let him know that you were not his ideal mate before I kill him.”

“You won’t fucking touch him,” Will says bitterly, possessive anger rising in him at the thought alone. “He is mine.”

Tobias lashes out with the wire, catching Will’s hand while he’s yanking the drawer open. He manages to wrap his fingers around his gun, but he’s yanked back before he can get the safety off or aim it. 

The wire comes around his throat, cutting off his oxygen and cutting into his skin at the same time. His vision blurs while he fights, his fingers shaking while he pops the safety on the gun as quickly as he can.

His vision is going dark and he can feel blood leaking from his neck as he points the gun behind himself, hoping to God that he hits the psychopath behind him. The gun goes off, and his hearing goes out with the bang.

All he can hear is a high-pitched tone, his vision slowly coming back as the wire leaves his neck. 

He pops off more rounds into the house, hoping that at least one catches its mark.

He lays on the floor, gasping for breath while his vision slowly clears, and his limbs regain the oxygen needed to move. When he stands, he finds his dogs around his legs and his front door wide open, Tobias long, long gone.

He walks to the end table where his phone was charging when he realizes that the fucking dickhead broke the screen of it. He can’t make a call to warn Hannibal of what’s coming, and he curses himself for never getting the landline like he meant to.

He reloads his gun with shaking hands while staggering to his door, collapsing against his porch as his vision swims. It’s freezing outside, but he doesn’t bother to go back in to get a coat. He locks his door behind him and runs to his car, driving as fast as he can to Baltimore. Tobias had maybe a ten-minute head start. He’s shaking apart while hoping he’s not too late. 

When he gets to Hannibal’s house, there’s activity inside. He can hear a struggle happening, and he bursts through the door to find Hannibal in his kitchen, fighting off Tobias weakly. There’s a kitchen knife stuck in his thigh, and Will’s vision goes red. 

Neither of them hears Will come in, which is just as well. He takes a knife from the butcher block and drives it into Tobias’ side. The man howls, yanking away from Hannibal while staggering back, and Hannibal looks up at him in such shock that it almost distracts Will from what he’s about to do.

Will doesn’t consciously remember stabbing Tobias, but he knows he did when he feels Hannibal still his arm. “Will,” he says softly while Will continues to stab the body on the floor. “Will, he’s gone.” Will pauses briefly, looking down at the body that he's butchered as though he hasn't seen it until this very moment. 

Will drops the knife, gasping against the floor while Hannibal touches his face softly. “He had no right to touch you,” Will says angrily. “No fucking right at all.”

“He told me you were dead,” Hannibal replies, and his voice breaks with the admission. “I… Will, I don’t know what I would have done.”

Will leans forward and kisses him hard, their lips meeting desperately. Teeth clash and nip at lips, each so fucking relieved that the other is alive that they cling to one another in fear that it’s not real.

Hannibal’s fingers touch his throat absently while their mouths devour one another, and Will gasps in pain, causing Hannibal to pull away. Hannibal notices the angry red mark at the base of his neck, and his mouth sets in a hard line. “Let me tend to you, please.”

Will nods, the adrenaline wearing off enough that he’s actually feeling pain, now.

Hannibal takes them down the hall to his downstairs bathroom, stripping off their bloodied clothes. He grips the knife in his leg, palpating around the wound before yanking it free. He makes a hiss of pain while Will ties a towel around it, staunching the blood flow temporarily while they clean themselves of all the blood.

They climb into the shower together, each wincing as the hot water stings and reopens their wounds. Will touches each bruise on Hannibal’s body, cleaning him carefully and reverently, kissing each little mark and bruise he can reach. Hannibal does the same for him, his fingertips ridiculously gentle as they wash the angry, bleeding, line across the base of his throat. He scrubs the blood from Will’s hands and wrists, lathering under his fingernails as through Will is about to scrub into surgery. 

Once they’re clean, they climb from the shower and begin tending to their wounds.

Hannibal’s leg is still bleeding, so that gets immediate attention. Will unties the soggy, bloodied towel, and Hannibal immediately staunches the blood flow with a sterile handful of gauze. Will watches him while he stitches himself up, his fingers quick and deft as he weaves the silk thread through his skin. “I wanted to call you,” Will says softly, drawing Hannibal’s eyes up from his task as he sits on the toilet seat, leg up on the tub. “He broke my phone. I got here as soon as I could.”

His voice is like ground glass, and he has no idea how he’s going to hide this at work. “I debated allowing him to kill me,” Hannibal admits softly, and Will reaches out to touch the side of his face, soothing himself as much as Hannibal. “I blamed myself for bringing you into my life. I’m so sorry, beloved.”

“He knew about you,” Will says softly. “He told me that he saw you, and he deserved you more than I did.”

“He followed me when I killed Mark Holden,” Hannibal replies. “I didn’t know I had an audience. I’ve known there was something off about him, but I could never have guessed this.”

Hannibal finishes up with his leg, and then begins tending to Will’s throat. “Do you have pain anywhere else?” he asks.

“My shoulder,” Will replies, touching the purpling bruise there. “He hit me with the wooden handle of the wire. Of course, in my bad shoulder. I don’t think it’s… anything internal. Just bruising.”

Hannibal nods while cleansing the wound around his throat. “This isn’t as bad as it likely feels. It’s very shallow, I don’t think it will scar.” He smooths an antibiotic ointment over it with gentle fingers, palpating the sides of Will’s throat. “Can you swallow for me?”

Will swallows while Hannibal palpates his throat, likely feeling for any swelling. “Will I live?”

Hannibal gives him a small smile, the anxiety on his face smoothing out somewhat with the knowledge that Will was alright. “You’ll be just fine.”

The rest of their wounds are just bruises. Hannibal’s lip is split, but other than that, they’re alright. None of the bruising is on either of their faces, which makes it easier for them to cover their wounds with clothing should they need to. 

“We should get his body downstairs,” Hannibal says hesitantly. “I’ll get rid of him, Will.”

“I don’t want to eat him,” Will says harshly, glancing up at Hannibal pointedly. “Do not feed him to me.”

“I won’t,” Hannibal promises him.

They spend the early morning hours before dawn dragging Tobias’ body downstairs in a plastic sheet before painstakingly cleaning Hannibal’s kitchen of any evidence. Hannibal is meticulous, and Will watches him with the realization that this is not the first time he’s cleaned evidence from his house in this way. He suspects it won’t be the last, either. 

“I popped off a few rounds at my house,” Will says exhaustedly while Hannibal finishes cleaning his kitchen. “I’ll need to fix the holes at some point.”

“That can wait for tomorrow,” Hannibal says wearily, settling out in the kitchen stool to give his leg a break. “Tobias should unfortunately be dealt with today.”

“What are you going to do with him?” Will asks hesitantly.

Hannibal glances at him, his eyes searching Will’s face. “Trust me when I tell you that no one will find him. I will handle it, beloved.”

Will wants to ask for specifics, but he doesn’t. He trusts Hannibal in this enough to let it go. “He told me he was going to kill you after he was done with me,” Will says softly. “The thought alone of living in a world without you in it was… unimaginable. I don’t want to be without you, Hannibal. Not now, not ever. I’ve never known myself as well as I know myself when I’m with you. I love you,” he says softly, and his voice is raw with unshed tears. “I _still_ love you.”

Hannibal’s eyes are swimming too, and he reaches up to tug Will down for a kiss. Will goes without a fight, as kissing him is all he wants in the moment. Their lips meet, and Will can taste the copper tang of his blood from the cut on his lip, the sweetness of his tongue against his. The scent of him still makes Will’s blood sing, his touch still incites fire. Nothing has changed and yet, everything has.

Hannibal pulls away, resting his forehead against Will’s own. “So much of my life has been a charade. No one has ever seen anything of me aside from what I allow them to, however false and artificial it may be. Nothing with you has ever been a ruse, Will. Nothing. My love for you is all-consuming, I’ve never lied to you, and I never plan to. You once asked if anyone had ever seen me as relaxed as I am in your presence, and I told you the truth. No one has ever seen me with my guard down. Aside from you.”

Will brings their mouths together for another kiss, gripping the base of his neck so he can’t pull away just yet. He pours everything into this kiss; desperation, longing… love. His lips feel like fire against Will’s own, and he pulls away when he tastes the salt of Hannibal’s tears. “I forgive you,” Will says softly. 

Hannibal swipes at his face, his shoulder’s slumped in relief. “I suppose there’s more to talk about than forgiveness,” he replies while his hand takes Will’s own, threading their fingers together gently.

“There is,” Will agrees while reveling in the gentle touch of his fingers, recalling exactly how they used to make him feel when they first met. How they still make him feel, even after everything.

“Go upstairs and get some rest,” Hannibal says eventually. “I’ll take care of Tobias, and then I’ll join you.”

Will goes still, glancing up at Hannibal carefully. “What if… what if I wanted to see? What if I want to help you?”

Hannibal’s throat clicks with an audible swallow, and his face stays carefully neutral. “Is that what you want? Truly?”

“Yes,” he replies easily. “I won’t be an observer anymore. I won’t cover my eyes and hide from you. Let me help you, please.”

Hannibal looks incredibly hesitant, but he nods and then they go downstairs. 

Will helps him dismember Tobias, and it’s not nearly as offensive as he knows that it should be. Hannibal is meticulous, but he’s not messy. While they work, Will takes note of how thin Tobias really is, and something clicks.

“I was almost able to fight him off with no issue,” Will says absently. The thick plastic of the suit Hannibal has him wear crinkles with each movement of his hands as he packs away limbs into air-tight bags. “He shouldn’t have had the upper hand on you.”

Hannibal keeps working, carefully cleaning each part so there would be no trace evidence of them on any of it. “You asked me not to kill anyone while you decided.”

Will makes a low noise in the back of his throat at the thought that he would allow Tobias to kill him, all because he promised Will something so ridiculous. “But you thought I was dead.”

“I was content to meet you in the afterlife having kept my promise to you,” Hannibal replies.

The confession sparks anger in Will, and he grips Hannibal’s arm through the plastic of his suit. “If someone is threatening you, you’d better fight. If you think I’d forgive you in this life or the next for dying when you could have lived, you’re God damned mistaken.”

Hannibal nods once at that, his eyes glinting in the fluorescent light. “We’ll discuss this another time, but I promise you, Will.”

Once all of Tobias is packed into small, air-tight, bags, they put the bags in a deep freezer. Each of them removes their suits and their gloves, packing them away carefully before cleaning up the room.

Will’s nose is burning with the scent of bleach as they walk into Hannibal’s bedroom, each settling out carefully on the bed so as not to jostle their wounds. “I should cancel my appointments for tomorrow,” Hannibal says wearily. “Give myself a day to recover.”

Will wants to turn onto his side to look at him, but his shoulder has a heartbeat, and it hurts too much to move. “Can we switch sides? I can’t lay on my right shoulder right now.”

Hannibal hums, standing carefully from the bed. “I need to go make a few phone calls to cancel my appointments. I’ll be back, beloved.”

Will settles into Hannibal’s side of the bed, and the scent of him in the blankets feels like a sedative for Will’s brain. He rolls carefully onto his side, doing his best not to jostle his shoulder. When Hannibal returns, he has a tall glass of orange juice and a few pills in his hand. “Take this,” he offers as Will sits up. “It’ll help with pain and swelling.”

“Did you take something?” Will asks as he pops the two tablets in his mouth, swallowing some juice to chase them down.

Hannibal nods, taking the glass from Will’s hand to set it on the end table. “We’re likely to sleep very well, but I think we need it.”

He climbs back into the bed, this time on Will’s side, and Will scoots over until he can settle out in his arms, resting his face against Hannibal’s chest. His partner’s fingers weave into his curls, and he feels the press of lips against his forehead. 

Will doesn’t remember falling asleep, but it’s dreamless. 

They wake up after six in the evening, each much sorer than they felt when they went to bed. Will follows Hannibal into the bathroom where he changes his bandage on his leg, and then re-cleans Will’s wound on his throat.

He helps Hannibal make them dinner, which consists of Portobello mushroom risotto and a light salad. The meal is carefully meat-free, and Will feels grateful for that for the time being. He has enough things to worry about, never mind Hannibal feeding him... people.

They each have a glass of water with their dinner, and the silence between them is loaded. “You have to stop the displays,” Will says, breaking the silence between them like shattered glass. “The FBI might not be as insightful as I am, but… they’re not stupid, either. After a single afternoon of digging around I was able to figure you out. If your displays stop, eventually other cases will eclipse you and you’ll be set on the back burner.”

Hannibal sets his fork down carefully, glancing up at Will with a stoic expression on his face. “You’re going to ask me to stop.”

“No,” Will replies immediately, shaking his head. “I’m asking you to stop displaying them. I’d also like to ask… if you could re-evaluate what constitutes your particular brand of justice. Rudeness… Hannibal, that’s not enough for me.”

“You’d like me to smite those that truly deserve it, at least in your perspective?” Hannibal asks, and there’s a note of condescension in his tone. 

“For now,” Will amends, averting his eyes to the table. “I won’t be a by-stander, Hannibal. Eventually, I’ll be participating, and… I need to be able to look at myself in the mirror. I think you know what it’ll do to me if I were to do what you do. You know. Eventually it’ll eat my alive that I’m a monster, and you won’t like that I’m just a shell of who I once was. I’m asking you to do this for me. If it’s more than you’re willing to do, then I need to step away. For myself, and for the person I’d become if I don’t.”

“I already told you that I’d do anything, Will,” he says softly, taking Will’s wrist in his long fingers. “I can’t even believe that you’re here with me right now. I’m endlessly grateful.”

“I still need time,” Will replies honestly, flinching at the look of despair on Hannibal’s face. “Not… not to decide if I want you, because I know that I do. I just… need time to come to terms with who I am. I don’t care what you do, Hannibal, just so long as I’m not called out at two in the morning for one of your displays. Let me figure out who I am on my own terms, and I won’t ask you to change anything about yourself aside from… from the displays.”

“And the method with which I choose them,” Hannibal says with a frown. 

“If you…” Will starts and stops, his stomach turning. Of all the conversations he’s ever imagined having with someone, it’s not this one. “If you cook something from them… tell me. I am going to trust that you’ll be honest from now on about what I’m eating, and that you’ll let me decide if I want to join you or not. How many people have I eaten, Hannibal?”

Hannibal clears his throat, glancing away carefully. “I can’t be certain. More than five? Less than ten, definitely. I can’t recall what I’ve taken from the freezer, if we’re to be honest.”

“God,” Will groans, pulling his hand away from Hannibal’s to cover his face for a minute. “From now on you tell me the truth, okay? Promise me.”

“I promise you, Will,” he replies immediately. “I always keep my promises.”

“You hadn’t killed anyone in well over a month before Holden, right?” Will asks.

“I didn’t feel especially compelled to,” Hannibal admits with a shrug. “I also knew if you were called out to my... scenes, you'd eventually put it together. I wasn't ready for that. I've been... content with you.”

“Not content enough,” Will argues, tugging a hand through his curls. “I know you’ll kill again, and… if it’s someone that fits your code and not my own, I will forgive you. Just don’t expect me to go with you to… to kill someone who took your parking space. I know there’s going to be some slips and misunderstandings between us, but I plan to fight for you. I want you, Hannibal. I can’t even imagine not being in your life.”

“It’s the last thing I want,” Hannibal tells him earnestly. “I can’t lose you, Will.”

“Dr. Dumas,” Will says softly, glancing at Hannibal with an arched eyebrow. “How did he die?”

Hannibal tips his chin up stubbornly, a haughty little set to his jaw. “Painfully. I made sure he bled for more than two days. I can assure you of that.”

Will lets out a little breath, shocked with himself by the relief he feels in that moment. “Good.”

They sit in silence for a few moments while Will thinks about different things he’d like to ask. “What did the guy that you skinned alive do? Do you even remember anymore?”

“He was…” Hannibal sighs, touching his stab wound through his pajama pants. “He was a man that liked to taint women’s drinks at social functions. He enjoyed them… when they weren’t capable of giving consent. I gave him the exact thing that he gave to the women that he touched, and then I flayed him.”

Will should feel disgusted by the conviction in Hannibal’s voice, but he doesn’t. The man was disgusting, and… Will just feels relieved that he’s not hurting any other women. “Good,” he repeats again, his voice soft and worn.

“What else would you like to know?” Hannibal asks, and his tone is just as worn and exhausted as Will’s own. 

Will has more concerns, but he’s tired and sore. There’s one that’s burning him up from the inside, and he decides now is the time to address it. “When you’re with me,” he says slowly, almost afraid to even ask it. “At my house, with my dogs… being the very definition of domestic bliss… Is that real for you? Or are you… are you faking it?”

Hannibal looks incredibly offended by that, his mouth falling open. “I can’t believe you would ask me that. Of course, it’s real. I love you. I love Buster and Winston. I love our time together so immensely that it pains me when I’m away from you. I used to listen to patients in therapy who would talk about missing and loving their partner in that way, and I could never understand it. I valued my personal space and freedom more than I can tell you, and I couldn’t imagine allowing someone else to consume me in that way. Until you. I understand, now. I ache for you when you’re not with me during the week. I miss you the moment you’re out the door. When I think about our time together, it’s always golden and warm, untainted by the darkness entirely. Who I am when we are together is who I am, Will.”

Will swipes at a relieved tear that escapes his eye, swallowing around a clot of them in his throat. “Okay,” he says softly, his voice breaking. “Good.”

They finish their dinner mostly in silence, and Will helps him clean up. They stand in his kitchen while Hannibal wipes down his counters, and Will sighs. “I have to get home. My poor dogs haven’t even been fed today.”

Hannibal nods, his shoulders slumping. “Are you going into work tomorrow?”

Will hasn’t even thought about work, and he shrugs. “I might be able to get away with saying I have a sore throat. I certainly sound like I do. I think I’m going to take tomorrow off to fix the holes in my walls.”

“I’ll come by tomorrow, if that’s alright?” Hannibal asks hesitantly.

Will should say no. He should tell him that he needs time, but… he doesn’t want it. He wants Hannibal with him, even though he probably shouldn’t. “Yeah,” he says eventually. “That’s alright.”

Hannibal follows him to the foyer where he puts one of his own coats on Will's shoulders. Will has spare clothes here, but not spare jackets, and he came here in his pajamas. He's debating whether kissing him is a good idea, when Hannibal makes the decision for him. He grips the lapels of his jacket, tugging him close while his mouth presses softly against his own. His lips are sweet and soft, a faint taste of copper from the cut on his lip. His tongue sweeps Will's mouth briefly, just a taste, before he pulls away with his eyes closed. "I'll see you tomorrow, beloved."

Will nods, realizing that at some point he's reached out and gripped Hannibal's hips in his hands. He presses another kiss to Hannibal's mouth before leaving, and it still feels like he's leaving a piece of himself behind as he goes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EARLY post because I don't know if I'm going to be able to update tomorrow! Picked up a double at work, so... little present for you guys instead of having to wait two days.
> 
> Let me know what you think! You guys are WONDERFUL. <3333


	29. Chapter 29

Will decides to stop off at a store for a new cell phone, as he has no way of keeping in touch with work without one. The guy that works at the store stares at Will’s throat the entire time, and Will avoids eye contact like the plague.

His dogs have relieved themselves in the house by the time he gets back, and he feels terrible for having left them for so long. He lets them outside while he takes the dog food pan from the fridge, scooping out a huge amount of food for each of them before feeding them on the porch while he cleans up his house.

There’s blood on the floors, and four bullet holes in his walls. It’s not as bad as he thought it would be, though. He has leftover paint and spackle; he could fix it like it had never happened.

He cleans up the messes from the dogs as well as the blood on his floors before heading outside with the small bag of garbage. His dogs are running around the front yard expelling some pent-up energy, so Will sits with them on his porch. He should throw a ball for them, but his shoulder hurts too much to consider it.

He feels physically and emotionally drained. It’s been one day, but it feels like it’s been a week. The cold air outside feels like it’s helping him to stay awake a bit, even though it stings his face and makes his eyes water. He pets Winston affectionately when he brings him twigs and random things he’s finding in the yard, smiling a bit while watching Buster take some aggression out on a tuft of grass. He’s silently thankful that Tobias didn’t hurt them or kill them. If they were more vicious, he knows Tobias would have. Tears well up unbidden at the thought alone, and he presses a kiss to Winston’s snout just because.

When it gets to be too cold to sit out anymore, he calls them in the house and heads upstairs. 

He brushes his teeth and takes a few Motrin before climbing into bed, aching and exhausted despite the fact that he’s slept most of the day. He feels restless, but he’s too sore to even consider tossing and turning. Instead, he lays flat on his back like a corpse and winces with each anxious shift of his body against the mattress.

What he did to Tobias is weighing on him. 

What’s worse is that he barely remembers doing it. His brain was off, his body moving on autopilot while he stabbed him countless times. He slaughtered him. Stabbed him so ruthlessly that Will doubts even Jimmy or Brian could figure out exactly how many times. 

It felt… _good_. More than good. It felt satisfying.

He gasps as he allows the thought more headroom. Did it feel good because killing those who deserve it feels good? Because Tobias was threatening Hannibal? Or because Will is more fucked up than he originally thought?

He thinks that the answer to that is, ‘Yes.’

He did not just kill him. He _brutally_ murdered him. If Will had been called out to that scene, he would have deduced that the killer was extremely violent and volatile. It was a crime of passion, yes, but also a means to sate an urge. Looking at what he did through a clinical eye, he would say that the killer enjoyed it. By the time Hannibal stilled his hand, Tobias’ stomach and side looked like raw hamburger. 

It’s decidedly more disturbing because he’s… _eaten_ people, now. He waits for the wave of revulsion, and grimaces when it doesn’t come.

Will shivers in his blankets, swiping a hand across his face.

He thinks about what it was like to take Tobias apart, and the act is so bizarrely removed from his conscience it feels like someone else did it. Something about it reminds Will of his Biology classes where he dissected a piglet, and it really shouldn’t feel that… impersonal. He had a human leg in his hands while he stuffed it into a bag, and he barely feels anything about it at all. It does not help that Hannibal was by his side, clinical and unaffected, directing his movements and helping him along. Will can lie and say he was picking up on Hannibal’s lack of emotions about it, but he knows that’s not the truth.

There was something wrong with him. There was no doubt.

He lays in bed for hours wondering about his actions and what they mean about him. Sleep clearly isn’t coming, and he’s debating getting out of bed when he hears his front door open and close from downstairs. Will sits up while his heart beats furiously in his chest, cursing himself for _yet again_ not keeping his gun in the bedroom.

He hears Hannibal greet his two dogs in a hushed voice, then footsteps climb his stairs. Will settles out in the bed again, watching Hannibal come into the bedroom. “Are you awake, Will?”

“Yeah,” he says softly while his heartrate recedes back to normal. “What are you doing here?”

Hannibal strips down to his boxers before climbing into the bed, easing himself carefully between the sheets. “I disposed of Tobias. The thought of being anywhere you weren’t was abhorrent.”

His partner settles out against Will’s chest, taking care not to jostle his shoulder. Will holds him close, pressing kisses to his temple while they lay together. “I barely remember killing him,” Will says eventually, and Hannibal kisses his chest. “It’s like a flip got switched, and I… reacted.”

“The darkness in you is not like my own,” Hannibal replies softly while his fingers trace along Will’s ribs. “You’re a vengeful, beautiful, creature. I don’t think it’s ever-present like it is for me. There’s nothing wrong with you, Will.”

Will laughs, covering his face with his free hand. “I’m not certain you have any business telling me that. As a therapist, you should see that there is _definitely_ something wrong with me. You’re not just a therapist, though. Can’t you… can’t you see how unethical it is that you treat patients while… being what you are? You must be able to see yourself clearly, can’t you?”

“I see myself perfectly well,” Hannibal assures him, and his tone is almost condescending. “I also see that I don’t fit in any category. I am not merely a sociopath. I am capable of love, as you are evidence of that. I shouldn’t be capable of empathy, yet I loved my sister and would have changed everything about myself to please her. I should take pleasure in hurting animals, shouldn’t I? Yet I love your dogs, and I loved the animals that my mother raised. I don’t get sexual gratification from killing. I am something other, Will. I love. I kill. I manipulate situations to fit my needs. I feel no remorse about what I’ve done. I am exactly who I am, and I offer no apologies for any of it.”

Will swallows thickly at that, laying in silence for a few moments. Even after saying all of that, he still managed to somehow avoid answering Will’s question. “But do you really think you should be treating people who need help?”

“I first studied psychology to better understand my nature,” he says softly while his fingers continue tracing Will’s skin. Will almost laughs, as he’s certain Hannibal is about to avoid the question again. He wonders absently how often he’s done this when they’re talking. Lies by omission. “What I’ve found is that it’s a graceless practice. You could see a dozen therapists and get a different diagnosis from each. It’s a floundering profession, rife with blundering hypotheses and imprecise methodologies. I think I help people by merely giving them an outlet to speak of their worries. Something a friend could do in the same way.”

“Do you honestly think that?” Will asks in surprise, tipping his face up to take in Hannibal’s expression. “Jesus, you’re highly respected in your field, and you think it’s a joke.”

“I never said it was a joke,” Hannibal argues. “Because of my profession, I was able to see you clearly. The moment you began speaking of my displays as artwork… a soft, appreciative curve to the corners of your beautiful mouth, I knew. You weren’t disgusted by me in the least. You were… worshipful. I decided right then that I would not discourage you. I whispered through the chrysalis, but for all my knowledge and intrusion, I could never entirely predict you. What emerged has followed its own nature and is beyond me.”

Will sits up abruptly, his shoulder flaring with pain that he dutifully ignores so he can glare down at this unknown man in his bed. “You got me a job at the FBI because you _liked_ the idea of having someone that could watch them, keep tabs on the investigation. You wanted me wrapped around your little finger, sharing FBI secrets, and keeping you informed. Did you actually care about me at all in the beginning? Or were you… grooming me?”

“I fear the answer to that will not be pleasant to hear.” Hannibal glances away briefly, his fists clenching by his sides. “I did not think I would love you,” he says softly. “I thought I could influence you into loving me enough that you would follow me regardless of my… proclivities. The night you kissed me in my study, I wondered about my feelings for you, if they were real. I began to suspect that I cared for you more than I believed.”

“You…” Will’s breath leaves him in a gasp, and he averts his eyes so Hannibal won’t see the sheen of tears on them. He used the word ‘influence’, but what he means is ‘manipulate’. “You _pretended_ to care about me to manipulate me into loving you?”

“You were so different from anyone I had ever met,” Hannibal replies carefully. “Initially I thought that I could keep you at arms distance emotionally, but… earn your affections while coaxing the darkness out of you. The night you kissed me, I knew I was ruined. Your eyes were the color of the ocean, your cheeks as pink and flushed as your lips. The weight of you in my arms, the sweetness of your mouth… I was lost. You reached out, unabashed, touching my face as though your fingers ached to do so. The feelings that flared in me were… unfamiliar. 

“I felt a desire to hold you close and keep you safe. I wanted to take you to bed and lay claim to you until every _inch_ of you smelled of me, inside and out. The thought alone infuriated me. After you left, I berated myself for… lapsing in the way that I did. I thought that the only way to correct my error was to kill you. Remove the temptation of you once and for all.”

“You thought about killing me back then,” Will repeats numbly while shifting away from Hannibal carefully. His fingers grip the blankets and he covers himself discreetly, hiding from the monster in his bed. “Christ, Hannibal.”

“I thought if you were gone, I could regain my bearings. I wondered how I would do it, and nothing I thought of had any appeal whatsoever. No matter which way I considered it, the end result was always abhorrent.” his eyes trail off, a grimace on his face. “I thought of you, lifeless in my arms. That fiery passion, absent from your eyes. The trace of pink that stains your cheeks replaced with a lifeless gray. The thought alone made me feel… empty. I felt completely repulsed by it. I could not imagine being without you.”

“Would you have eaten me?” Will asks, even though he’s certain he knows the answer already, and that he won’t like having it confirmed.

“Yes,” Hannibal replies easily. “Your heart.”

Will flops back down to the bed, his heart that Hannibal wanted to eat beating furiously in his chest. “This is you,” he realizes eventually. “This is you, without your mask.”

“Yes,” Hannibal agrees, his dark eyes holding Will’s own. “You want so dearly to hate me for it, don’t you?”

“Your interest in me was a lie,” Will says miserably, curling up in the sheets to protect himself. 

“Ah,” Hannibal grins, and it’s the sharp one that Will has only seen a few times. His real smile, all sharp teeth glinting in moonlight. “I’d argue that my interest in you was entirely honest. My feelings for you, however, were completely unexpected.”

“Do you still think about…” Will swallows, glancing away briefly. “Eating me?”

“No,” Hannibal replies immediately. Will watches him drag his tongue against his bottom lip, making it glisten. “Not when I’ve found much more pleasurable ways of _tasting_ you.”

Will makes a low noise in his throat, a tiny flare of arousal pulsing through him despite feeling the urge to cry. “How can I be with you knowing that you’ve manipulated me like this? _How_ , Hannibal?”

“Because you love me,” he says easily. “You love me not in spite of who I am, but _because_ of it. You pretend to be so disgusted, yet I can smell that you’re aroused. Tell me, Will. Now that you see me, does the thought of me tasting your flesh incite you with fear or desire?”

“Yes, I believe is the answer to that,” Will replies honestly. His fear is slowly melting into anger, and his mouth gets away from him. “Tell me, _Doctor Lecter_ , are you being vulgar because it’s who you are, or because you’re terrified that I will leave you?”

Hannibal lets out a surprised breath, his stillness in the bed vaguely alarming. “Yes,” he replies softly.

Will swipes a hand across his face while his heartrate returns to normal. His monster isn’t hiding anymore, and Will isn’t sure how he feels about that now that he sees it. “Nice to finally meet you, Hannibal,” Will says coldly, and Hannibal flinches as though he’s been struck.

“You’ve met me already, Will,” he replies, and his voice sounds ruined. “Nothing about us has been a lie.”

“Just your initial interest in me,” Will replies bitterly. “Did you imagine that you could manipulate me because of my empathy disorder? Make me a mindless, worshipful creature that idolized you and killed with you? Someone weak and trembling at the thought of displeasing you?”

“ _Will_ ,” Hannibal says softly, but there’s warning in his tone.

“You once said you weren’t a dominant in the way that I thought, but… the thought of me living under your shoe used to have appeal, didn’t it? If I did something that displeased you, you could fuck me back into submission, right? Your pretty little murdering _plaything_ , always ready to fuck and kill on demand.”

Hannibal is on him in a moment, a snarl twisting the mouth that Will has kissed countless times. His fingers grip Will’s wrists while he pins Will to the bed with his body, and Will tips his face away, maintaining eye contact. “You were _wrong_ , Doctor Lecter. Wrong about yourself, wrong about me. How does that make you _feel_?” he spits, holding eye contact with the beast above him even though he’s terrified.

He feels the fight go out of Hannibal, the slump of his shoulders following the release of his wrists. “ _Relieved_ ,” he says softly, and his eyes skitter away from Will’s own. “I feel thankful, Will.”

Hannibal retreats to his side of the bed, sitting carefully on the edge. Will feels his heartrate slow back to normal, and he does his best not to show that he’s frightened. Something tells him that his beautiful monster is already close to retreating, and he doesn’t want that. “Coming here may have been a mistake tonight,” Hannibal says softly while looking out the bedroom window.

“You think?” Will says sarcastically. “Did you decide to come here and frighten me away from you? Did you think confessing this to me would make me reconsider being with you?” The silence from Hannibal is all the affirmation he needs, and he snorts. “You really aren’t good at predicting me, are you?”

“No,” Hannibal laughs, but it’s a broken, miserable thing. “I am not.”

“You used to believe I’d bend and bow to you, but the opposite has happened, hasn’t it? You’d happily live under my shoe, letting me crush you when it pleases me,” Will says tauntingly, and Hannibal sighs.

“Yes,” he replies, and his voice cracks with the admission. The moonlight from the window behind him casts him in an eerie silvery glow, taking all the golden warmth from his skin. 

“Did you want me to leave you because you want to be free of me, or because you fear for me?” Will asks.

“I’ll never be free of you,” Hannibal admits with a sigh. “I’ll love you _always_ and think of you every moment that I’m not with you. No matter where I go, you’ll own me entirely. You _should_ leave me, Will. You should be terribly afraid, considering what I’m capable of doing.”

“To me?” Will wonders hesitantly. 

Hannibal shakes his head. “I’d never hurt you,” he promises him earnestly. “Others might, though. They will hurt you because it’s worse than if they’d kill me.”

Will tugs him back to the bed by his elbow, encouraging him to lay down. Hannibal goes willingly enough, but there’s stiffness in his posture. A surly set to his shoulders that Will recognizes as something he himself would do. “They can try,” Will says lowly, gripping Hannibal’s chin to force his eyes up to his own. “They’ll fucking regret it, though.”

Hannibal’s mouth parts in surprise before he leans up and captures Will’s mouth in a devastating kiss. Will nips at his bottom lip roughly, reopening the wound there so he can taste the coppery tang of his blood, and Hannibal moans low in his throat as Will licks at his lips. “You are _mine_ ,” Will says possessively while kissing down the column of his throat, sucking a bruise over his heart. 

“Yours,” Hannibal agrees breathlessly while Will eases between his thighs to tug his boxer-briefs down his hips. His soreness and injuries take a backseat while he lays claim to the beautiful creature under him, and Hannibal looks like he scarcely believes this is happening. His partner. His _soulmate_. This beautiful and terrible man that has somehow managed to become the love of Will's life as well as his worst nightmare. 

Will fumbles for the lube at the end table, coating his fingers quickly before breaching Hannibal with two fingers. Hannibal gasps, his long fingers that are capable of bringing blinding pleasure and unknowable pain gripping Will’s hips.

“How does it feel, Hannibal?” Will asks while fingering him open quickly. Hannibal’s legs spread wider, his spine arching deliciously in a wanton invitation that Will fully intends to accept. “You planned and schemed to have me under you, enraptured by you, desperate to be fucked and owned by you,” Will gasps as Hannibal digs his fingernails into Will’s hips hard enough to bruise and bleed. “Yet here you are,” he continues carelessly. “ _Under_ me. _Enraptured_ by me. Desperate to be fucked and owned by me alone. Serves you _right_ , doesn’t it?” 

Will replaces his fingers with his cock, spearing him with one sharp, hard, thrust. Hannibal whimpers beneath him, his fingers like stone against his hips. “Will,” he sighs, wrapping his long legs around Will’s waist to tug him closer. Will sits back on his haunches before fucking into him with abandon. 

He intentionally misses the spot inside of Hannibal that will bring him pleasure, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. Hannibal’s eyes are dark, his mouth parted as he gasps through Will’s relentless pace. Will ignores his little flare of annoyance, choosing instead to chase his own pleasure how he sees fit.

He knows Hannibal is enjoying this by how dark his eyes are, the gentle quirk to the corners of his mouth. His partner was a sadist just as much as he was a masochist, and the realization makes Will snap his hips harder, shoving Hannibal up the bed. 

Will uncaps the lube, coating his fingers before reaching behind to finger himself. His thrusts grow erratic while he brushes the spot inside himself, little pulse-points of pleasure flaring out with each strike of his fingers. Hannibal looks wrecked by the sight of it, the death grip he has on Will’s hips relaxing a bit as he takes in the show that Will is giving him. 

He withdraws his fingers from himself, gripping his headboard as he fucks Hannibal into the mattress. Hannibal reaches for his own cock, and Will bats his hand away. Hannibal growls under him, and Will fucks him harder, a shocked gasp escaping Hannibal’s mouth that turns into a long, desperate, moan.

Will slams into him a few more times before his orgasm rocks through him, his cock pulsing hotly inside of Hannibal’s tight body. He sags against the headboard for a moment, struggling to regain his breath. “Did you delight in that?” Hannibal asks despondently, and Will shakes his head. 

He withdraws from Hannibal, moving his legs around until he’s straddling Hannibal’s waist. He angles Hannibal’s cock against his loosened entrance before sinking down over him in one fluid drop of his hips.

The noise that Hannibal makes sounds like he’s been gutted, and Will is certain that it’s because his cock has been painfully ignored through all of it. Will rocks over him, easing him deeper inside while his fingers splay over Hannibal’s chest. “I’m _enraptured_ by you, Hannibal,” he says breathlessly while he lifts and drops himself over Hannibal’s cock. The angle is hitting his prostate squarely, and he can already feel his cock filling again. “You own me in the same way that I own you. We are _equals_. I am not below you, and you are _not_ below me. Don’t you ever fucking forget that.”

Hannibal sits up abruptly, gripping Will’s back as he rolls them over until Will is under him. His hips snap harshly while his hands grip Will behind his knees, folding them against his chest. He feels impossibly deep like this, and Will sobs as the pained pleasure of over-stimulation makes him feel like he’s about to ignite.

“You are _mine_ , Will,” Hannibal says possessively, his voice like gravel. “My equal, my partner,” he gasps while pounding into Will ruthlessly. “The love of my life. I’d kill for you,” he gasps while pounding into Will with abandon. “I’d die for you. Will,” he sighs, tipping his face forward to rest his forehead against Will’s own. He says Will’s name like a prayer, their hot breath mingling between them. 

“Hannibal,” Will says softly while stroking his cheek, pulling him down for a kiss that’s so gentle he tastes the salt from Hannibal’s tears. Hannibal’s pace slows down, his hips grinding against Will’s own. He lets go of Will’s legs, and Will eases them around his waist, hooking his ankles behind his back. Hannibal strokes his face while his mouth continues kissing him sweetly, gentle little sips against his lips. Will pulls away to gasp as the head of Hannibal’s cock rolls relentlessly against his prostate, shooting sparks of pleasure that pulse through his gut. “I love you,” he whispers against Hannibal’s lips. “Don’t ever try to push me away again.”

“I won’t,” Hannibal promises breathlessly, his pace as slow and gentle as he can be. “I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t,” Will promises in return before leaning up to seal his mouth over Hannibal’s own. Hannibal picks up his pace a bit, reaching between them to wrap his fingers around Will’s cock, and Will gasps against his mouth, arching up into his grip.

The intensity between them is too much. Hannibal isn’t hiding from him anymore, and the feelings pouring off of him are absolutely suffocating. Hannibal loves him. It’s not just a sweet, gentle, romantic love. It’s a bone-deep ache. A relentless, possessive emotion that coats the back of Will’s throat enough that he thinks he could choke on it. Hannibal would die for him, would do anything for him. He’d worship the ground at Will’s feet if Will asks him to do so. 

He can feel all of it, including his own love for Hannibal that doesn’t feel any different from Hannibal’s love for him. Will would worship at the altar of him for the rest of his life, should Hannibal want that.

He suspects that he does.

Will greedily inhales the damp breaths escaping Hannibal’s mouth. He’d take everything Hannibal has to offer him, including the very breath from his lungs. Hannibal was his. Blood, breath, heart and soul. His beautiful monster did not have to eat Will’s heart to keep it with him, he already owned it entirely.

With no warning, Will spills over his fingers, clamping down on his cock harshly while a devastated sob escapes his mouth. Hannibal groans, his hips stuttering while Will’s body milks him. He comes with a gasp, his hips locking up as he empties himself inside of Will, thrusting gently to work himself through it. Hannibal slumps against him, and Will wraps his arms around his shoulders, pressing kisses to his temple. 

They lay silently for a few moments, each too sated to do very much of anything else. He feels a little huff of breath against his sternum while Hannibal’s fingers trace his ribs. “I never thought I would have you like this again,” he says softly. “Yet another occasion where I am pleased that I was wrong.”

“I am still pissed at you for… faking your feelings about me in the beginning. Such a _dick_ thing to do,” Will says bitterly, but he still presses a kiss to Hannibal’s temple.

“It backfired on me,” Hannibal admits with a huff of a laugh. “I think I loved you before you loved me. It truly does serve me right.”

“We admitted it at the same time, though,” Will placates him softly, even though he has no idea why he’s trying to soothe him about it.

“No,” Hannibal replies while pulling away enough to look at Will’s face. “I had told you I loved you before that night. I said it in my native tongue so you wouldn’t know it, though.”

“Chicken shit,” Will laughs. “Did you really?”

“Yes,” Hannibal admits with a hesitant smile. “But I knew I loved you the night we went to dinner for the first time. You were and still are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I think I felt it,” Will admits softly while twisting Hannibal’s hair between his fingers. “You had your guard down that night, don’t know if you realized that or not.”

“I didn’t,” Hannibal laughs. “I’m not entirely surprised. I forget myself around you more often than not.”

“I want to ask you something,” Will says cautiously, and Hannibal sighs. 

“Anything, beloved.”

“Did you…” Will licks his lips, hesitating briefly. “Did you think about killing Molly?”

“Yes,” Hannibal replies immediately, no hint of apology in his swift answer. “She was unspeakably rude.”

“Because of her bi-erasure, or because she reported you?” Will wonders and Hannibal shrugs.

“All of it, really,” he admits without remorse. “There was no way to kill her without the investigation implicating you in some way. The first suspect is always the… lover.” He says the word as though it’s distasteful. “I couldn’t do that to you.”

“What about Bev? Jimmy? Have they ever… provoked you?” Will wonders, and he asks because of the Dr. Hotass thing more than anything else.

“No,” Hannibal laughs. “Why would I want to hurt them?”

“You said you were jealous of Bev,” Will replies. “And she calls you Dr. Hotass when you’re not around.”

“She’s said it in front of me,” Hannibal reminds him with a chuckle. “It’s juvenile, but it’s not offensive. I also am not so unstable that I can’t see my jealousy regarding her is completely unwarranted.”

“Never hurt anyone I care about,” Will blurts out fiercely, holding Hannibal’s jaw so he can’t turn his eyes away. “ _Never_. Promise me.”

Hannibal’s mouth pinches at that while his fingers trace Will's jawline. “You’ve lost far too many people that you’ve cared about, Will. I won’t be the reason that you lose more. I promise you.”

Will lets out a relieved little breath, settling back into his pillow. “We should… clean up before we get stuck together.”

Hannibal laughs, pressing a kiss to his sternum. “I agree.”

Hannibal winces as he climbs from the bed, and Will sees some darkness staining his sheets. He has a flare of panic that he was too rough with Hannibal, and he clicks on the lamp to see what he’s done. 

The blood on his sheets is not from Hannibal’s entrance, but from the stitches in his thigh that have come loose. “Christ,” Will sighs, relief and fresh anxiety warring for dominance. “I thought the blood was from… from what I did.”

“It’s not from you, beloved,” He assures him. Hannibal touches his leg, a little hiss of pain escaping his mouth. “They haven’t torn,” he says in relief. “Just… stretched.”

Will climbs from his bed that looks more like a crime scene than anything else, grimacing down at his ruined sheets. “Did I hurt you?” 

“No, Will,” he says softly. “I’m fine.”

They go to the bathroom together to clean up, and it takes longer than it should. Will has Hannibal’s blood on his face from tearing open his lip wound with his teeth. There’s blood against his legs where Hannibal stretched his stitches open. They’re both covered in come. The hickey that Will put over Hannibal’s heart is already a startling shade of purple, and Will is honestly embarrassed by the state that they’re both in. Hannibal cleans his thigh carefully before wrapping it in sterile gauze, then they head back to the bedroom. 

“My sheets are garbage,” Will says despondently and Hannibal shakes his head. 

“I can get the blood out,” he assures him. “Not the first time there’s been blood on something I wish there wasn’t.”

They strip the bed and change the sheets before climbing between them, each settled out as though they’re too sore to consider moving. “I want to move in,” Hannibal says suddenly once Will clicks off the lamp. “Tobias could have killed you, and I would have been sleeping in my bed, not even realizing you were gone.”

“Fear that I’ll be murdered is not a good enough reason to live together,” Will says with a scowl.

“I want to be with you, Will,” he says softly. “I want to make us breakfast before we go to work. I want weekends in bed with you. I want to read in the living room while you play the piano for me, Winston curled by my hip. I want to take our dogs to the stream and do laundry together, and everything boring and mundane in between.”

Will swallows thickly, turning to Hannibal with an arched eyebrow. “ _Our_ dogs, huh?”

“Forgive me for saying, but Winston might like me more than you, now,” he teases with a grin, and Will laughs.

“He actually might, the traitor,” he chuckles. “You should probably keep your house in Baltimore, though. I don’t have a murder basement, Hannibal. I don’t want one, either.”

Hannibal nods at that. “Perhaps that’s a good idea. Keep our home life and… our other life separate.”

Will hums in agreement while laying out flat like a corpse. His whole body is throbbing, and sleep feels like a great idea. “Stay in bed with me in the morning,” Will says softly, his mouth moving slower while he fights off sleep. “Please.”

Hannibal’s hand finds his under the blankets, lacing their fingers together. “I’ll be right here, beloved.”

Their hands stay laced even as they drift to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added another chapter because this was just TOOO long hahaha
> 
> ONE MORE chapter before an epilogue! I can't say enough about how flattered I am that this story has taken off like this. You guys are amazing and wonderful and I ADORE YOU all.
> 
> ALSO!!
> 
> I got a comment in the last chapter that asked for a few one-shots in Hannibal's perspective. HOW DO YOU feel about that? It's something I'd be willing to do! Let me know!


	30. Chapter 30

Will calls out from work shortly after his alarm goes off, then climbs back into bed to lay by Hannibal’s side. His partner is already awake, resting comfortably in the bed. “Have you been awake long?” Will rasps out. His throat truly feels and sounds like shit, and even talking hurts more than he thought it would.

Hannibal shrugs. “I don’t usually sleep very much. These last few days have been unusual for me.”

“So, I was thinking,” he says hesitantly, rolling onto his good shoulder to look at Hannibal more fully. “I’ll pack up my dog’s things today, as well as my own. I’ll come with you to your house tonight, and you can… do whatever you’re doing to my house. Our house,” he amends softly. 

“You want to live together?” Hannibal asks in surprise, turning his head on the pillow so he can slide his eyes over Will’s face.

“Yeah,” Will admits with a clearing of his sore throat. “I want you with me, Hannibal. I want my weekends on our sunporch. I want our vegetable garden in the summer. I want you, and if that hasn’t changed because of anything that I’ve learned, I don’t think it’s going to.”

Hannibal leans forward and kisses him softly, touching the side of his jaw with gentle fingertips. He leans away, and the bright joy in his eyes makes Will smile in response. “I love you,” he says softly, pressing more kisses to Will’s cheek, then his jaw, and Will laughs. “You’ve made me happy, beloved.”

“Will we have to move the furniture out of my house? We’re both a little… uh, damaged for that right now,” Will says while shifting uncomfortably against the bed.

“The company will do it for us,” Hannibal assures him. “Money has it’s uses on occasion. We should patch the bullet holes, though. That will draw unwanted attention.”

Will nods, sitting up in the bed with a grimace. After his attempted murder and vigorous sex, there isn’t an inch of Will that isn’t in some kind of pain or discomfort. “I’ve got to go deal with that. The spackle will need a few hours to dry before I can paint it.”

They head downstairs slowly, each worse off for wear. Will checks his gun first, noting that he’d fired off four rounds total. He sees four clear bullet holes in the walls, and he sighs in relief that none broke a window or hit anything electrical in the walls.

Hannibal heads into the kitchen to start coffee and breakfast while Will digs the slugs out from the drywall. Hannibal brings him a coffee as he’s filling the holes with spackle, taking care to over-fill them so he can sand them down smoothly later.

Will sips his coffee while Hannibal stands behind him, both looking at the white blobs on the walls. “That didn’t take very long,” Hannibal muses.

“The longest part will be sanding the spots down smooth so they don’t show once I paint over them,” Will replies, turning to his dogs who clearly want to go outside. He lets them out, shivering at the freezing air that pours in.

They stand in the living room together, and Will knows that Hannibal is trying to put together what happened with Tobias that night by the way his eyes are taking in the bullet holes in the walls. He feels a little bit of anxiety from him, combined with relief. He was afraid that Tobias could have killed him, relieved that he did not. “He told me the flowers I sent you were _trite_ and ridiculous,” Will says after sipping his coffee with a scowl. “I am so fucking glad I stabbed him.”

Hannibal smiles while standing to his side, hiding it behind his coffee cup. “Their appointment was at ten that morning,” Hannibal recalls with a little smile on his face. “I accepted the flowers while they sat in the waiting area. The card you wrote out… I truly was distracted during their appointment. I don’t even remember if Tobias’ behavior was stranger than usual or not.”

Will snorts into his cup, rolling his eyes. “He apparently was livid.”

“He is no longer a concern,” Hannibal replies with a tilt of his head. “Are you hungry?”

Will nods, glancing at Hannibal with a little smile on his face.

They have a small breakfast that consists of eggs and wheat toast, each slumped miserably in their chairs as they eat. “Franklyn will report Tobias as missing,” Will says absently, glancing up at Hannibal. “What happens when he does?”

“He’s been absent from Franklyn for months, now,” Hannibal replies with a shrug. “There was almost two weeks where Franklyn didn’t hear from him at all. I imagine he’ll report him missing, but… Tobias has wanted to leave Franklyn for the entirety of their relationship. No one will ever find him, so missing is much better than a murder investigation. As heartless as it sounds, I am relieved. With Tobias gone, I can refer Franklyn to a therapist for individual therapy without repercussions. I am a couple’s therapist, after all.”

“A little heartless,” Will agrees with a laugh. “But I’m glad you have an out with him, now.”

After breakfast, they each take a careful shower to clean themselves up before re-tending to their wounds at the bathroom sink. Will packs up most of his clothes as well as some toiletries to take to Hannibal’s house, then he cleans out his fridge of anything that won’t be good by the time they move back in.

He packs their dog beds into his car with his clothes, as well as everything he’d need for work. When he comes back in, Hannibal is sprawled on the couch with his leg up. “I’m having the fireplace fixed as well,” he says hesitantly, and Will sighs. “I know you said you wanted to do it, but it’s better to allow them to make all the messes at one time.”

“Makes sense, I guess,” Will concedes, glancing at the old fireplace with a frown. “It’ll be nice to come home and make a fire at night.”

Will slumps by him on the couch, carefully lifting his leg so it rests across his lap. “This is really what you want?” Will asks hesitantly, and Hannibal blinks his heavy eyes open to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “Living in a farmhouse in Bumfuck, Virginia?”

“Yes,” he says with a lazy smile. “It truly is a beautiful property. I won’t lie to you and tell you that I don’t want to live anywhere else, but we’ll never sell it. It will always be a place we can return to whenever you’d like.”

“Do you own other houses?” Will asks in surprise.

Hannibal grins at that. “I own several properties, yes. Two in my name, and five that are under various aliases.”

“You’re kidding,” Will retorts dryly. 

“Not at all,” Hannibal sighs. “I have a house in Cuba under an alias. There is a home on the Bluffs in Virginia that I own, also under an alias. I have a cottage in Maine and in Nova Scotia, both under different aliases. There is also a house in Spain as well as France. I needed options should I ever have been discovered.”

“Since we’re… sharing our life together,” Will says hesitantly, clearing his throat a bit as he shifts on the sofa. There’s no real way to ask the question without being rude, but he doesn’t even try to be considerate about it. “How fucking rich are you, exactly?”

Hannibal laughs, closing his eyes while stretching his back out. “Allow me to put it this way,” he says while stretching. “We could buy a house every day for a year and still live comfortably for the rest of our lives.”

“Fuck,” Will breathes, lolling his head back against the sofa. He squints up at the ceiling, turning his head so he can look at Hannibal with a scowl on his face. “Why did you say ‘we’ could buy houses?”

Hannibal’s eyes widen, and Will catches a whiff of something that feels a lot like panic. “Well,” he says slowly, stalling and hesitating while Will’s blood pressure goes up.

“What did you do?” Will asks while sitting up on the couch, gripping Hannibal’s ankle. “Hannibal?”

“I…” Hannibal shrugs, glancing away briefly. “I may have added you to all my accounts. You’re in my will, should anything ever happen to me it will all go to you. Before you become indignant, I merely wanted to ensure you’d be well. It’s nothing to become overwrought about, merely… ensuring your care.”

“I’m not with you for that!” Will yells at him, startling his dogs where they sleep in their dog beds. “Hannibal you need to tell me when you do something crazy like that.”

“I just told you,” he replies defensively. “I don’t have family. There is no one else in my life that I care about. Would you rather it goes to no one at all?”

Will rolls his eyes, huffing out a breath while settling back against the sofa. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yes,” Hannibal chuckles, reaching out with his hand to stroke Will’s wrist. “But I love you.”

Will laughs, shaking his head while closing his eyes. He was a… millionaire? He had no idea, really. It changed nothing and everything at the exact same time. “You’re lucky that I love you too, or I’d have strangled you by now.”

He hears a rumble of laughter from his frankly obnoxious partner. “Indeed.”

They don’t do very much of anything for the rest of the day, each content to loaf on the couch and nap briefly between bathroom breaks and snacks. Will thought it would feel strange to cuddle up with him on the couch, but… it doesn’t. Not in the least. This thing between them is intense and alarming, but it feels… right. Will knows right to his bones that he’s made the right decision in staying with him. Hannibal’s confessions the night before are still weighing on him, though. He tries to think back to their beginning, tries to recall if he ever felt anything from Hannibal that contradicted his actions. 

He can’t recall a single thing. Hannibal was either more attached than he believed, or he was a master manipulator that could control errant emotions that Will picked up sometimes.

He thinks Hannibal, for all his self-discipline, cared for him more than he realized. As if sensing Will’s thoughts, Hannibal reaches out and strokes his cheek, drawing his eyes upward. “Don’t,” he says softly. His dark eyes are somber, his mouth pitched downwards in a frown. 

Will takes in a shaky breath where he rests against his side on the couch, glancing away briefly. “It hurts, Hannibal. I was so smitten with you. It’s… embarrassing to think about how enamored I was, and how quickly you stepped in to manipulate me.”

Hannibal eases closer, pressing a kiss to Will’s temple. “It has weighed on me,” he says softly, breathing in Will’s scent for a moment before continuing. “I’ve never lied to you. Perhaps… lied by omission, but never outright. I had to tell you. I had to give you the choice to stay in my life while knowing everything I had kept from you. Never feel ashamed for how we began, Will. I feel enough shame for the both of us.”

“I don’t want you to feel ashamed, Hannibal,” Will sighs. He nestles back against his side, tucking his face into the crook of his neck. “I’m just… recalling some things that make me wonder. Did you think you could buy my affection?”

Hannibal snorts. “There was a brief moment in time where I believed I could,” he admits softly. “Your anger anytime I did made me realize that was not possible. The day you showed up at my office to berate me for upgrading the house, I was completely floored. You were _so_ angry,” he says with a chuckle. “I love your smile. I love when you’re happy. But your anger makes you the singularly most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I was pretty rude to you in the beginning,” Will recalls absently. “Did you think about killing me for it?”

“No,” Hannibal sighs. “Every time you sassed me, I fell a little bit more in love. Even though I didn’t realize it at the time.”

“Did you ever pity me?” Will asks hesitantly, gripping the soft material of Hannibal’s sweater in his fingers. 

“Pity? No, Will,” Hannibal sighs. “I was completely fascinated by you. I cannot imagine what it’s like for you to live day to day, consistently knowing what everyone truly feels. Knowing their emotions as though they are your own. I’ve always considered you to be resilient in that regard. You’ve never lost sight of yourself, and I admire you for it.”

“You love me,” Will says softly, and he feels a wave of it come from Hannibal almost in agreement.

“I do,” Hannibal says softy, weaving Will’s curls between his fingers. “So very much. You have every right to be angry, Will.”

“I don’t know that I am,” he replies with a humorless laugh. “People can lie with their mouths, but I know it. People can keep a straight face, but it doesn’t change that I know exactly how they feel at any given moment. I’ve never felt anything false from you, Hannibal. It would have sent me running for the hills if I had. I think you believed you weren’t attached, but you were. I’ve always felt it. You were hopeless basically right from the start.”

Hannibal is silent for a few moments, his fingers weaving through Will’s hair and making a riot of them. “It’s amazing to me that I could drift so far from what I planned, yet still somehow end up exactly where I was meant to be.”

“With a bum leg on a couch with me?” Will asks with a laugh.

“Just with you, Will,” Hannibal sighs, and it’s a martyred little thing. “Just with you.”

Will sands down the spots on the walls later in the afternoon, and Hannibal cleans the dust from the floor and furniture as he goes along. After two coats of paint, the spots aren’t noticeable at all, and Will sighs in relief. “We can go whenever you’re ready,” he tells Hannibal, who nods. 

They each take their own car back to Hannibal’s house, and Bev calls him while he’s driving there. “Hello?” he answers.

“Wow, you do sound sick,” Bev says with a sigh. “You scared me by calling out. I was worried.”

“I went fishing on Saturday,” Will lies, clearing his throat. “I guess I spent too much time in the cold.”

“Did you go to the doctor’s?” she asks. “Your voice sounds horrible.”

“Lymph nodes are swollen,” he replies. “Hannibal… uh, he’s been taking care of me.”

There’s silence on the other end of the line before a squeak. “Has he really? Oh, Will. I’m so glad.”

“Me too,” he says honestly. “He came by yesterday to talk, and… we’re going to work through it.”

“Are you ready to tell me what happened in the first place?” she asks carefully, and he sighs.

He taps his fingers on the steering wheel while gnawing his lip. “He wanted to move in, and I didn’t think I was ready for that. I said some nasty things to scare him off, and… uh, well. I’ve clearly missed him terribly. We’re going to move in together.”

“You’re an idiot,” she sighs. “But if you’re not ready for that, it’s okay to say so.”

“I do want him here,” Will says honestly, allowing the conviction to show in his voice. “I’m just… afraid. Every relationship I’ve been in has ended in a shitshow. What if we move in and… I don’t know, it falls apart somehow? I’m still fucking terrified, but I guess that’s just a part of being with someone. I’m an idiot,” he sighs.

“Yep,” she agrees with a laugh. “I’m mostly just relieved that he’ll start feeding you again. The little ‘good food booty’ you had is almost gone. Someone needs to do something about that.”

“Good food booty?” Will laughs, and the sound is hoarse. “Are you saying I had a fat ass?”

Her laugh is vibrant in his ear, and he smiles against the phone. “A healthy booty, Graham. Nothing to be ashamed about. I’m sure Doctor Hotass will want it back as soon as possible.”

“Bev, Jesus,” he sighs, but he’s smiling. “I’ll be in tomorrow. Don’t bring anything for lunch. Hannibal is making me some chicken soup tonight, so I’ll bring you a bowl.”

“God, I missed him,” Bev laughs. “See you tomorrow, Will. Take care of yourself, okay?”

“Will do,” he promises absently. “Night Bev.”

He has to wear high-neck sweaters for the rest of the week to hide his throat, and no one knows that his raspiness is because of an injury and not illness. Bev brings him cough drops and hot tea every chance she gets, doting on him like a mother hen all week until his voice finally starts to sound normal again.

He calls Detective Pazzi first thing in the morning on Tuesday, thanking him for the fax and also telling him that the lead was a dead end. Pazzi sounds… deflated by that, and Will knows immediately that he did the right thing by calling him. The last thing Will needs is Pazzi getting in touch with Jack to see if the lead panned out.

Living at Hannibal’s house is not as strange as he thought it would be. Waking up with Hannibal and coming home to him at night are Will’s favorite parts of living together, but everything in between is perfect, too. Hannibal wakes him up in the middle of the night to make love to him, and they’ve discovered that they both like morning shower sex more than they thought they would. 

He loves their intimacy, but he loves the quiet moments in between even more. He likes that they’re comfortable enough with one another to sit quietly and read. He loves watching Hannibal sketch, even though he’s aware that he’s sketching Will in some way. He loves watching Hannibal with his dogs, talking to them and sneaking them table food when he thinks Will isn’t looking.

Hannibal shows him his theremin one night after they’ve had a few drinks. They’re both mildly buzzed off good whiskey and even better company. Soft touches evolve into heated kisses, and the next thing Will knows he is being carted upstairs by his wrist. Will strips off his clothes to his boxers while watching Hannibal undress. A low moan escapes his throat while he watches his frankly gorgeous partner strip down to his boxer-briefs, his golden muscles shifting in the low light of the room. “You’re very much like a theremin,” Hannibal says with a laugh. “I don’t even need to touch to you get music out of you.”

Will lets go of his erection through his boxers, staring blankly at Hannibal in confusion. “I’m like a… _what_?”

“Theremin?” Hannibal replies, scratching idly at his chest. “A musical instrument.”

Will vaguely recalls Hannibal telling him that he composes on the harpsichord and theremin, but he never really thought to ask about the thing. “I don’t know what that is,” he admits with a laugh. 

Hannibal heads to his closet, pulling out a strange looking device that looks a lot like an antenna. Will deflates, physically and metaphorically at the realization that they weren’t going to have sex. At least not imminently. 

He sits with Hannibal on the edge of his bed, his back against Hannibal’s chest while he shows him how to use the ridiculous instrument that sounds like a science-fiction soundtrack. “This thing is stupid,” Will laughs while Hannibal moves Will’s wrist to make sounds. His breath is against Will’s ear, and he finds it’s next to impossible to concentrate.

“It requires perfect pitch to play it,” Hannibal says defensively, but his smile is wider than he’s ever seen it. The joy radiating off him feels like heat from the sun. “Come on, at least try.”

Will rolls his eyes and gets the feel of it, testing out different movements that create notes. “Kind of cool that you can make music without touching anything,” he says absently while feeling out the notes of 'The X Files' theme song. “It’s…” he lets out a startled laugh, and Hannibal squeezes him around his waist. “ _Ridiculous_.”

“You’re a natural,” Hannibal laughs, pressing a kiss to his neck. “It can play songs other than Sci-fi theme songs.”

“Sure,” Will replies dryly while sliding into a terrible version of 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow', pulling another vibrant laugh from Hannibal that vibrates against Will’s back. Hannibal’s hands start wandering his bare chest, and Will groans when he starts rolling a nipple. “Not a very good theremin instructor, Dr. Lecter.”

Hannibal gives him a filthy little chuckle behind his ear, nuzzling the skin there with his lips. “Not in the least,” he agrees while sliding his palm between Will’s thighs to cup his erection in his boxers. 

The theremin ends up being one of Will’s favorite pass times, as Hannibal can never quite keep his hands to himself.

After a few weeks, Hannibal’s house starts to feel like their house. 

Mealtimes are the only times where there is any tension between them. Hannibal announces the meat in each meal that they have pointedly. Beef tenderloin, chicken, pork medallions; always an animal, never… a person.

Will is grateful for it, but… when they come home from work almost two weeks later, Will confronts Hannibal in the kitchen. “You know what I could go for?” he asks while Hannibal rummages through the fridge.

“What’s that?” he asks absently, glancing at Will for a moment before taking out a tray of pork. 

Will hesitates, swiping absently at his jaw. “Gumbo?”

Hannibal goes very still, his eyes shifting up to Will’s own. “I have some sausage in the freezer, but…”

“Good,” Will replies easily, nodding his head. “You can make it tomorrow? I’ll stop for some fresh shrimp after work.”

“It’s the sausage I made last time,” Hannibal says pointedly, averting his eyes towards the counter. 

“I know,” Will shrugs. “It was good last time. It’s not too much work, is it?”

Hannibal swallows, the sound clicking while he smiles hesitantly. “No, Will. Not too much work.”

Hannibal stops announcing what the meat is after that, and Will doesn’t bother asking in return.

__

_Six months later_

“Will, take a break, beloved. You need to drink something.” Hannibal calls from their front lawn. Will glances down at him from the top of the ladder, swiping sweat off his brow. He is almost finished with the second coat of buttery yellow paint, their house almost story-book sweet.

“I’m almost done,” he says distractedly, dipping his paintbrush back into the gallon of paint. “Give me twenty minutes?”

“Lunch is inside when you’re ready,” Hannibal says, and he can hear the smile in his voice even though he’s focused on his task. 

“Thanks darlin’,” Will replies with a wide smile. 

His house is almost completely different from when he bought it, now. The outside is a warm, buttery yellow. His driveway is freshly graveled, and the bushes have all been cut back and replaced with yellow and white rose bushes. He’s got a little pink cherry blossom tree in his front yard, now. Not something he picked, but Hannibal loves them, and he’d do anything for him, including owning a pink tree.

The inside has been completely updated, but Hannibal did so tastefully. The cabinets in his kitchen are a warm golden honey with white quartz countertops. There are now French doors leading from the back of his house to a large, four-season, sunporch that runs the entire length of the house. He’s got a patio in the backyard where they’ve had a few barbeques with his friends from work, and a firepit that gets use almost every weekend.

The upstairs has also been almost entirely gutted. Hannibal redid the rooms so there’s now only two bedrooms, one being his office with floor to ceiling bookshelves, the other being their room. There’s a master bath now that has a soaker tub as well as an enormous walk-in closet that fits all of his partner’s clothes, as well as Will’s steadily growing wardrobe.

Hannibal keeps his home in Baltimore, as he needs a space to do what he does, and he needs a space to keep his more precious items that simply don’t fit in their house. His harpsichord being one of them, his samurai armor that belonged to his aunt being another. It came in handy to have a larger space to hold Hannibal’s big Christmas dinner, as all the people he invited simply wouldn’t fit in their smaller farmhouse.

Will has joined him once for a… hunt. After finding a woman’s body in a horse, the FBI stumbles upon sixteen dead women buried in a field. Clark Ingram was the definition of a monster, and he got away with what he did because he pinned it on a very sweet man, Peter Bernardone. 

Will couldn’t do anything about Peter’s mandatory psych hold, but he _could_ do something about the monster that put him there.

He gutted him like the pig that he was, and Hannibal helped him. The kill had been glorious. Righteous. Will doled out the justice that Ingram deserved, and it felt _rapturous_.

They did not display him, and they took items from his home that would specifically make it look like he ran. It was an annoying few weeks for Will at work, trying to track down a man that Will knew was in his lunch that day. It was better than being caught, though.

A missing person is always better than a murder investigation. There was an ungodly amount of truth to that.

Hannibal has killed one other person, but Will didn’t join him for that. It was a man that Hannibal told him had said something outrageously offensive, though he didn’t elaborate more than that. Will has an idea that the outrageously offensive thing he said was about Will in some way, and he doesn’t argue when Hannibal tells him that he’s going to do something about it.

It bothers Will much less than it should. 

They’ve settled into their new life very comfortably. Will loves having him near, and he loves that he can come home to him every night. He had been concerned that Hannibal would regret the decision, as he knows the private man likes his space, but he hasn’t complained or seemed unhappy even once.

Will would know, as Hannibal doesn’t keep his guard up around him, anymore. Will feels everything he feels, and it’s not tiring in the least. 

He finishes up with the house just as the sun creeps around the roof, blaring down on Will’s face. He climbs down from the ladder carefully with the paint can, closing it up with a hammer. He washes his hands quickly with his garden hose before heading into the house.

Hannibal is in the kitchen, where Will can usually find him. He seems to love the space, as unbelievably, it’s somewhat bigger than his kitchen was in Baltimore.

There’s a plate of grilled chicken over a decked-out salad on the island waiting for him, and he smiles as he sits down at the island seat. “This looks great. Thank you.”

“Were you able to finish?” Hannibal asks while wiping down his spotless counters pridefully.

Will nods, spearing a slice of chicken with his fork. “Yeah. Outside is all done, now.”

“It looks lovely,” Hannibal replies. “Of all the things I thought would happen in my life, living in a yellow farmhouse isn’t one of them.”

Will laughs at that, glancing up at Hannibal with an arched eyebrow. “You love it.”

“I do,” Hannibal replies softly. “Perhaps tonight you’ll join me outside for a fire?”

“Of course,” Will agrees after a bite of his salad. 

He takes a shower after lunch, soaping the sweat and yellow paint from his skin. He and Hannibal go for a walk with the dogs in the late afternoon, enjoying the sunshine and the smell of the stream by their feet. 

Will stands up to his shins in the stream, splashing his dogs who yip and bark happily while darting in and out of the water. His shorts are soaked, and his feet are cold, but he doesn’t mind. It’s still early in June, but the weather is warm enough that it’s not uncomfortable.

“Are you happy, Will?” Hannibal asks from the side of the stream, the late afternoon sunlight highlighting his hair and his skin beautifully. He looks immeasurably happy, but Will can feel something like anxiety on him. It’s mild, so Will isn’t especially worried.

Will laughs, watching Winston try to bite a splash of water that Will throws his way. “Obviously,” he says teasingly. “Why?”

“Come here, please,” Hannibal replies instead of answering him, and Will wades out of the stream to join him at the edge. 

“Yes?” Will asks with a raised eyebrow, trailing his wet fingers against Hannibal’s face.

Hannibal chuckles, swiping the drops of water from his cheek. “I love you, Will Graham. I never want to be without you. You’re my family, the love of my life. I want to spend the rest of my life loving you, cherishing you. Marry me, Will. Please.” Will watches with watering eyes as Hannibal pulls a little box from his pocket, opening it to reveal two rings, each spotless platinum gold.

Will glances up at him with his eyes as wide as his gaping mouth, and his throat clotted with tears. “Yes,” he says softly, nodding his head. “Yes, Hannibal.”

Hannibal grabs him quickly, and Will laughs as he’s lifted from the ground as though he weighs nothing. “You said yes,” he says with a laugh, pressing kisses to Will’s cheek, then his mouth. Will deepens the kiss, holding his jaw in his damp hands while Hannibal pulls him closer. 

They don’t end up making it outside for a fire that night, but Will decides he likes where he is much better anyway.

Hannibal is spread open under him while Will licks into his body, savoring each little sound and delicate arch of his fiancé’s spine. His _fiancé_. 

He grins against his entrance, fucking into him with his tongue and urging a gasp from Hannibal in response. He opens him up with his tongue slowly, teasing him until Hannibal is sweating and desperate under him. He licks into him, then away, trailing his mouth down to suckle his perineum, then his balls. He rolls each on his tongue while his thumb breaches him partially, barely enough to do much else aside from keeping him spread open.

He’s coaxing his monster out, and over the last few months, he’s gotten _exceedingly_ good at it.

“Will,” Hannibal warns him with a sharp moan. “ _Please_.”

Will leaves his balls, licking a broad stripe back up to his entrance where he presses two fingers in, licking around them. He hums against the muscle, scissoring his fingers gently while plunging his tongue between them. He’s so wet with Will’s saliva that easing his fingers in and out is no work at all, and Will takes his time with him, licking and sucking at the muscle while fingering him gently. Hannibal’s spine is rigid as a steel beam, and Will knows that as patient as he is, he’s just about had it.

Will spreads him open with his palms, gripping the firm flesh of his ass roughly. Will’s own cock throbs hotly between his thighs, and he pulls away from Hannibal’s entrance to bite at his ass cheek. “Will,” Hannibal pleads, and Will chuckles while spearing him with his tongue again, plunging it in and out of the quivering muscle. One of Hannibal’s hands comes around, gripping Will’s hair while his fucks himself against Will’s mouth. “I need _more_ , Will,” he grits out. Will ignores him, trailing his mouth back down to suckle at his testicles again.

Hannibal holds on for much longer than Will initially thought he would, he’ll give him that.

In one startlingly quick movement, Hannibal has Will flat against the sheets while he looms above him, settling over his waist and trapping him with his body weight. His eyes are dark and glittering in the sharp contours of his face, but there’s a little blade edge of a grin on his mouth. “ _Torturous_ thing,” Hannibal scolds him while slicking his cock with lube. “Unbelievably torturous.”

Will moans as Hannibal sinks down over him, taking him to the hilt in one swift movement. Will latches onto his hips as Hannibal begins fucking him, and he can’t help the desperate little noises he’s making. Hannibal is relentless above him, riding him so vigorously that the bed smacks the wall with each lift and drop of his hips. “Hannibal,” Will gasps, reaching up to grip the slats of the headboard. 

Hannibal grips the flesh of his chest, squeezing it in his palms while riding him into the mattress. He clenches his muscles around him, holding the constriction to the point of almost pain. “Fuck, _fuck_ , Hannibal,” Will bellows out, sitting up quickly to grip Hannibal’s ass while thrusting up into him. 

“You feel so good,” Hannibal groans, rolling his hips in a way that makes Will’s balls draw tight. “My _God_ , Will.”

“My fiancé,” Will sighs, suckling a bruise against Hannibal’s collarbone.

Hannibal’s pace slows down at that, grinding against him slowly enough that Will curls his toes in the sheets. “Will you take my name?” he asks breathlessly, and Will sobs as Hannibal rolls his hips and clenches around him again.

“Yes,” Will admits, and his voice comes out higher than he means for it to. “William _Lecter_. How-how does that sound?”

Hannibal moans, gripping his shoulders while riding him harder. He presses Will back against the bed, reaching behind himself to hold Will’s thighs as leverage. The expanse of his muscled chest and stomach rolling with each movement of his hips is fucking gorgeous, and Will reaches up to glide his fingers down all that glistening muscle, tweaking a nipple on his way down. “You’ll be mine,” Hannibal gasps. “No one will dare to touch you or look at you without answering to me. _Mine_.”

Will grips his flushed cock that bobs with each lift and drop of his hips, jerking him in time with his pace. Hannibal bucks on top of him, thrusting up into his grip while grinding down. “ _Fuck_ ,” Will gasps, stroking him faster. “Come for me,” he begs him desperately. “Come on.”

He’s been fighting it off for as long as he can, but his balls are so tight against him that they ache. His skin feels tight and over-sensitive while heat and pleasure pulse through his veins with each movement that Hannibal makes.

Hannibal drops himself down, spreading his thighs wider while rolling his hips in a tight circle. Will reaches behind him to spread him open, fucking up into him a few times before Hannibal clenches around him and spills against Will’s abdomen and chest. The noise he makes as he comes is wrecked and shocked, and Will continues jerking his cock while thrusting up inside of him.

It’s barely three more thrusts and then Will is coming, and Hannibal intentionally clenches around him, milking his release from him with gentle little rocks of his hips.

“You are something else,” Will laughs while Hannibal slumps over him, trailing wet kisses down the side of his sweaty throat. 

“You provoke me,” Hannibal accuses softly while suckling the skin over Will’s heart enough that he knows it’ll be a bruise. “ _Intentionally_. Do you enjoy that?”

“Immensely,” Will replies with a laugh while carding his fingers through sweat damp hair. “Do you know how God damned beautiful you are when you’re all feral like that? Christ, it’s _unreal_.”

Hannibal chuckles, and it’s a filthy little thing. “I could eat you alive, you’re that delicious.”

Will rolls his eyes, running his fingers through his sweaty hair. “If you could refrain from telling me that you’d like to eat me, that’d be great.”

“You’d enjoy it,” Hannibal replies with a grin, rolling Will onto his stomach. He nudges Will’s knees up the bed, and Will grips his pillow like a lifeline.

“Hannibal, I can’t go again. I _can’t_ ,” he says with a squeak while Hannibal licks into him, spearing him with the tip of his tongue. Will shudders at the sensation, too soon and too intense after the orgasm that he’s just had.

“Perhaps not yet,” Hannibal says, and Will feels him blow against his damp entrance. “I am a patient man.”

He takes his time, Will can give him that. Each swipe of his tongue feels like a punch to his gut. It’s almost painful with the sense of over-stimulation that’s wracking his body, but… he won’t dare to tell him to stop. He _loves_ this. It’s like Hannibal can’t ever get quite enough of him, and the little feedback loop with his gift makes it intense. Intimate. 

Unlike anything he’s ever had with anyone, until Hannibal.

Eventually the shock of over-stimulation wears off, and it’s just raw pleasure again as Hannibal licks and sucks at his entrance. Slicked up fingers ease inside of him, and Will moans while they stroke at that spot inside of him, making his cock throb where it hangs between his legs.

By the time Hannibal presses into him, Will is desperate for it. Each thrust in, Will slams back, and it’s _delicious_. 

Hannibal was right about that.

It takes much longer for them to finish the second time, but they take their time, working themselves leisurely. Will pulls away because he wants to see him, and he straddles Hannibal’s waist to take him back inside his body. 

The bedsheets are wet with sweat and come when the sun begins creeping over the horizon, and Will arches his back just as it slants through the windows. Hannibal reaches out and touches his sweaty chest where the sunlight spills across him, his eyes like liquid amber in the early morning light.

They come almost at the same time, and they’re both so sated and sore that they lay there in the early morning, catching their breath while sweat and come cool on their bodies. “We… all night?” Will says with a laugh.

Hannibal arches an eyebrow at him, licking his kiss-swollen lips. “It seems so.”

“I am going to be a zombie at work today,” Will sighs, reaching out to roll Hannibal’s nipple to stiffness. Hannibal makes a little noise in the back of his throat, swatting Will’s hand away with a laugh. “Worth it, though. Never done this before.”

“Neither have I,” Hannibal admits with a tired smile. “The sunlight on your skin… _beautiful_ ,” Hannibal says with awe in his voice. “You’re so tan. I honestly didn’t think you could.”

Will swipes at the sweat-damp hair on his forehead, glancing up at him with pursed lips. “Why? Because I’m pasty and pale in the winter? Not everyone maintains a golden complexion in December like some people.”

“Your skin is like gold, and the sun has lightened your hair,” Hannibal continues as though Will hasn’t spoken at all. “Beautiful.”

“We are not going again,” Will says with a laugh, but his eyes are stern as they look down at his fiancé. “ _Not_.”

“I don’t have time, even if I thought I could. I need to go outside and water my garden.” Hannibal pouts at that while his fingers twirl a curl of Will’s hair that’s especially golden in the sunlight. 

Climbing from the bed feels a lot like torture. They shower together and get dressed before Hannibal heads outside to water his garden and Will takes care of their dogs. They share a kiss as they’re each about to climb into separate cars, and Hannibal touches his jaw as he pulls away. “If you’re too tired to drive home after work, call me. I’ll come get you, beloved.”

Will nods, pressing another kiss to his mouth. “I am very good at running on fumes. If you need a ride later, let me know.”

Hannibal smiles at that, and then they head to work.

Will is barely finished with his first lecture when Bev storms into the hall, waving a newspaper in her hands. “How _dare_ you!” she says heatedly, causing a few students to glance back as they file out. “You didn’t even tell me!” Will frowns as the tiny woman approaches, anger and indignation rolling off her in waves.

She slaps the paper down, and Will’s mouth falls open. 

An engagement announcement. How the _actual_ fuck?

Will picks it up, staring down at it with an open mouth. The photo he used was from a symphony they went to in February, each of them dressed impeccably. Evelyn had taken the photo for Will, and each of them are smiling wide and warm in the picture. “We got engaged yesterday afternoon,” Will says with a disbelieving laugh. “Jesus, how did he manage this?”

“Yesterday?” Bev asks with a huff, glancing up at him to see if he’s lying or not. “That means your dear fiancé had an idea that you’d say yes.”

‘Dr. Hannibal Lecter & Mr. William Graham are pleased to announce their engagement,’ Will reads, and it lists the false way that they met as well as their schooling. Hannibal even put a comment that the happy couple plan to be married by the end of the year.

He’s flattered.

He’s _fuming_. The ridiculous man has some serious explaining to do.

Bev laughs, touching his arm. “Okay. I guess I’m not as mad at you as I thought I was. Your man is something else.”

“Clearly,” Will says tartly. He stares at the explanation of how they met, gnawing his bottom lip. This was a risky thing to do, especially since it’s not the truth. “There are people out there that…” he glances up at her carefully, clearing his throat. “That know we didn’t meet this way.”

Her eyes widen and she slaps his arm. “Okay, so you need to fucking spill the beans.”

Will slumps in his seat, swiping his face with his hand. “You can not tell anyone. Do you understand me?”

She rolls her eyes while she sits at the corner of his desk, propping her leg up on the chair where he’s sitting. “Have I ever repeated a thing you’ve told me?”

She hasn't. Will has shared some seriously weird shit with her over the last few months, and she's never repeated a single word of it. He trusts her implicitly, and he knows she feels the same way about him. Somehow, this pushy little woman has become his best friend, and he doesn't quite know when or how it happened. He's thankful for her, though. “I was engaged to someone else when I met him,” Will blurts out, and it feels so fucking good to tell someone that he lets out a relieved little sigh. 

“No!” Bev gasps. “Who?”

“A woman,” he says slowly, glancing up at her carefully to take in her reaction to that news. She quirks an eyebrow, but otherwise didn’t look especially surprised. “She… she and I went to Hannibal for couple’s therapy. My fiancée at the time, she didn’t… like that I have an empathy disorder. She hated that I am bisexual. She was still in love with her ex-husband… I stayed with her because I didn’t want to be alone. Hannibal… he understood me in a way that no one ever has. Our connection was immediate. We fought it, initially. Our feelings for one another. But… I didn’t want to fight it. Not when what we had felt so… right.”

“Pretty unethical of Dr. Hotass,” Bev replies with a sigh. “But if there’s anything that I know, that man loves you. More than anything else, I’m just glad he got you away from that miserable bitch. She hated that you are bi? What does that even mean?”

“She doesn’t think it’s possible,” he replies bitterly. “You’re either gay or straight or lying about it somewhere in between.”

“What a fuckin peach she is,” Bev says dryly. “I won’t tell anyone, Will. I’m glad you found each other, however… dirty romance novel it started.”

Will laughs at that, blushing to his ears. “Thank you. It feels good to have told someone.”

She arches a playful eyebrow at him, biting her lip. “Did you ever do the do in his office? Like, steamy, psychiatrist porn?” 

Will snorts a laugh, shaking his head. “Never. It probably wasn’t as sordid as I make it sound.”

“Bummer,” she sighs. “I was looking forward to hearing about a story that involves a desk and Doctor Hotass asking you how you _feel_. Never too late, though. You could surprise him at lunchtime one day.”

“Jesus, Bev,” he laughs, scrubbing a hand over his burning eyes. The thought has merit, though. 

“You look like you didn’t get much sleep,” she says absently, glancing down at his disheveled appearance. 

“None at all, actually,” Will laughs, a blush creeping up to his hairline. “We… saw the sunrise. Kind of.”

“Jesus,” Bev blushes, slapping his shoulder. “Rub it in, why don’t you. I had better be your best man.”

“Obviously,” Will replies with a wide smile. “Although you might have to fight Jimmy for it.”

“I can take him,” Bev says with conviction. “Can we go to the breakroom? You need a coffee, and we need to tell Jimmy that you’re not an asshole. He’s pretty hurt that you didn’t tell him, and he’s being petulant about it.”

Will sighs. “Sure, yeah.”

When they head to the breakroom, Jimmy’s back is to them while he pours himself a cup of coffee. “Jimmy,” Will says softly, and the man’s spine stiffens.

“Mr. Graham,” he says, his tone aloof and unfriendly. 

“Jimmy,” Bev laughs. “They got engaged yesterday. Hannibal is nuts and put it in the paper probably a month ago.”

Jimmy turns, his mouth pursed as he looks Will up and down. “Is that true?”

Will nods, smiling softly. “Yesterday by the stream, he asked me, and I said yes.”

Jimmy maintains his cool exterior for exactly one more second before he bursts into tears. “I am so happy for you guys!” he says while hugging Will tight. Will snorts, returning the hug awkwardly. 

“Thank you,” Will laughs. 

Jimmy pulls away to dab at his eyes with a napkin. “I was so mad at you. Figures Hannibal would be extra about it.”

“He’s… extra about everything in his life,” Will agrees with a sigh. “When it comes to me, he might be worse.”

“What’s the date? Do you know yet?” Jimmy asks as he settles out with his coffee mug.

Will shakes his head, moaning at the scent of fresh coffee as he pours it. “Not yet. I had no idea that he did this, so he might have an idea.”

“I’m his best man,” Bev says with a proud little arch to her back, looking down at Jimmy who is about to combust.

“I take it back,” Jimmy says stubbornly, twisting in his seat. “I’m still mad at you.”

“You’ll both be standing up for me,” Will assures him, and Jimmy melts a bit. “There’s no one else I want but the two of you.”

He doesn’t know how he ends up in a group hug, but he suffers through it.

Summer bleeds into the Fall, and Hannibal has already arranged everything for their wedding. It’s an upscale place in Baltimore, 'The Grand'. It’s an old building that’s been carefully maintained and updated, keeping to its old-world elegance. Everything about the hall is perfectly in line with his fiancé’s tastes. It’s not something Will would have chosen, but… he’d be perfectly happy marrying Hannibal in their front yard, so he lets his fiancé pick what he wants.

He knows his partner wanted to get married in the Norman chapel, but seeing as how gay marriage wasn’t legal there yet, they had to make do with something else. 

It didn’t stop Hannibal from writing a few strongly worded letters, though.

They get married on November nineteenth, and the wedding is fairly small considering how grandiose Hannibal can be.

Will is so nervous that he barely remembers his vows. Hannibal’s warm, whiskey-colored eyes hold him though, and Will grips onto his forearm while the Justice of the Peace coaches them through their vows. 

Hannibal touches Will’s face right in the middle of it, and he leans into it unconsciously, pressing a kiss to his palm. They ease closer, and he hears Bev clear her throat from behind him, reminding him that he’s right in the middle of the ceremony.

It doesn’t really work. He presses a kiss to Hannibal’s mouth, earning a little laugh from the people attending as well as the person marrying them, and Hannibal’s smile is so warm and wide that Will melts into it.

They exchange rings, and God, does it feel right. The way the matching ring looks on Hannibal’s finger makes a possessive little thrill go through him, too. He used to want a way to claim Hannibal when he wasn’t with him, something that marked him as belonging to someone else. The little gold band would be a deterrent for anyone that thinks they can approach him, and if it didn’t… then God help them.

Finally. Finally, the guy tells them that they can kiss, and Will almost leaps at him. Their mouths meet, and Will wraps him in his arms while Hannibal holds him close. 

They’re announced as husbands, and Will beams up at him while pulling him in for another kiss. 

The night goes by so quickly that Will can barely understand it. The live band plays music, they dance, they drink champagne. Hannibal dances with Bev once, and she blushes through the entirety of it. 

Will dances with Bev once, and Evelyn once. The rest of his night is spent in Hannibal’s arms, and he doesn’t regret that in the least.

They didn’t invite a single person that Will didn’t want there aside from Alana Bloom. It’s not a huge deal anymore, as she’s seeing Margot Verger, and she seems happier than Will can ever remember her being. The hostility between them is gone with the jealousy she used to feel regarding Hannibal, and he’s ridiculously relieved about it. It makes his work environment much easier, that’s for sure.

Jack and Bella come too, as Will has gotten closer with his mentor in the last year. He looks out for Will like a father would a son, and he’s careful with Will’s gift. He only gets called out when they’re desperate for a little insight, and he’s especially careful when Will is vulnerable after a scene. He and Bella come to the house often for dinner, and Jack is always so… proud of Will. He gives him advice for work and his relationship, both of which are not unwelcomed in the least. 

Hannibal invites Bedelia, and she wears all black to their wedding as though she’s attending a funeral. He knows she came, but he only saw her once when she came to announce her departure.

Good riddance. 

Beverly and Jimmy stood up for them, as neither Hannibal nor Will wanted anyone else to. Jimmy stood proudly to Hannibal’s side, the noblest little arch to his spine that Will has ever seen in his life. Beverly brought her new boyfriend Andrew, and she seems to be absolutely smitten with him.

Brian and his fiancée Kelley came as well, and Will takes a moment to glance around the room at all the people that have come into his life because of Hannibal. He feels grateful. So God damned grateful.

By the time they head to the hotel room, they’re kissing and gasping as Hannibal tries to get the card in the door of their penthouse suite. They are staying here for the night before taking off to France, then Italy. 

Three weeks in Europe with Hannibal. Will could not wait.

Jimmy is taking their dogs in while they’re gone, and Will is endlessly grateful to him for it. He’s been by the house enough times that Winston and Buster trust him, and he knows they’re in good hands.

Hannibal wouldn’t leave his Winston with just anyone, after all.

They strip off their expensive suits, each done in a shimmery dark blue, and it doesn’t take long for Hannibal to open Will up with his fingers and his mouth before sliding inside of him.

Hannibal makes love to him so slowly and gently that Will thinks he’s going to pass out. The sensual slide of damp skin, soft lips, and gentle nudges against that little bundle of nerves inside goes on for hours, and Will is about to lose his mind.

“My beloved,” Hannibal sighs between suckles to his throat and his shoulder, thrusting into him so carefully that Will clings to him in response. Will can feel the joy on him, radiating out of him, soaking into his skin like the warmth of the sun. His eyes look like amber, his dark hair falling over his forehead. 

Will brushes it from his face, sinking his fingers in the silken strands while his husband kisses him soundly. His mouth trails off down the slope of Will’s jaw, suckling the skin of Will’s throat. His thrusts are as unhurried as they can be, each little shift brushing that spot inside and keeping Will right on the edge. He needs more, and he knows exactly how to get it.

“My _husband_ ,” he says hotly against the shell of Hannibal’s ear.

That does the trick.

Hannibal growls, his hips pumping roughly while his fingers dig possessive bruises against his hips. Will arches into it, drawing his legs up onto Hannibal’s shoulders while his husband drills that spot inside of him.

They crash and burn together, limbs entangled while sweat and come cool on their skin. Hannibal stays between Will’s thighs, his head resting in the crook of Will’s neck. Will strokes his fingers through his sweaty hair while Hannibal traces idle patterns over his heart. 

Will loves both sides of him; the sweet, worshipful side as well as the dark, possessive side. He loves him entirely for what he is, and what he is capable of doing. 

He’s Will’s equal; his mirror image. He knows there isn’t a thing he could do that would make Hannibal love him less. Will presses a kiss to his temple, lacing his fingers through his damp hair to keep him close and his husband sighs.

God save anyone who comes between them. He’d burn the world to ash if anyone ever tried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONE MORE CHAPTER as an epilogue. Writing this story has been a WILD ass ride, and getting to share it with you guys is unreal. The Grand is a REAL place in Baltimore. You can Google it, and see pictures of the opulent building. It's COMPLETELY Hannibal in every way. 
> 
> ALSO a few people wanted to know what I used as my muse for young Hannibal, so if you Google Mads Mikkelsen H&M photoshoot, THAT is what I used exactly, right down to his purple tie.
> 
> I've already started writing a Hannibal POV one-shot, and you're going to HATE him initially, then feel terribly bad for him. Poor cannibal didn't just get slapped with a love stick, he gets a beatdown with it. 
> 
> I also know a lot of people were seriously hurt that Hannibal was a little shit in the beginning, but... he's Hannibal. I tried to stay true to who he is as a character, and well... unfortunately who he is, is a jerk. I love him, though. I know you guys do, too.
> 
> Thank you guys. Seriously. 
> 
> Epilogue goes up tomorrow or the next day. It's still in rough shape, so I want it to be perfect before I post it! <333


	31. Chapter 31

_Twenty Years Later_

Their house in Spain is Will’s favorite home, aside from their little farmhouse in Wolf Trap.

He’s not sure why, really. It’s far too modern for Will’s taste, usually. The large pool in the back is ridiculously opulent. The marble floors gleam in a way that reminds him of Scarface, for some reason. Every inch of it is nothing like Will would ever have chosen for himself, yet…

It’s perfectly Hannibal in every way. The large study is his favorite room, bookshelves stacked high to the endless ceiling, a rolling ladder being the only way you could reach them. The smell of that room is his favorite scent on earth, second only to Hannibal himself.

He also likes that the main floor is essentially entirely open. While Hannibal is in the kitchen, Will can be reading in the living room and still maintain a visual of his husband. He usually finds himself watching his graceful movements instead of reading his book, but he doesn’t mind the distraction. It’s nice to be able to watch him without being underfoot.

He lays on the side of the pool, doing his best to read through his work emails. He teaches online classes now and can work from pretty much anywhere. They take advantage of that often, alternating between their four homes as they please. Hannibal is basically in early retirement aside from a few patients that don’t mind video-sessions, and it seems to suit Hannibal well enough. 

He’s trying to get through student essays. Really, he is.

It’s hard to pay attention though, because his gorgeous man is doing laps, and Will has never once been able to ignore him when he’s wet. He’s aged ridiculously well. In fact, Will might say he’s better looking now than when he met him.

It’s unfair really, because he was the most beautiful thing Will had ever seen when they first met. Now… he’s just unrealistically hot. Even Beverly still drools when she sees him.

His hair is mostly all gray, but it suits him. He keeps it longer, his bangs almost always sweeping across his brow in a way that makes Will’s mouth water.

He’s still outrageously in shape, only the tiniest little swell of tummy that drives Will completely insane. It makes him feral, really. His bronzed skin has stayed flawless; only the gentlest creases around his eyes show his age, but it doesn’t make him look old.

They make every smile he gives Will a test of his restraint.

Hannibal pulls himself from the pool, and Will’s throat goes dry as he watches the sun catch and glisten on his salt and pepper chest hair. Hannibal cocks an eyebrow at him, his little smirk crinkling his eyes beautifully. “Work emails are keeping you busy, I see.”

“What?” Will asks distractedly while watching a drop of water glide down to the waistband of his tiny swim shorts. He wets his lips at the thought of chasing it with his tongue.

“Work?” Hannibal asks, drawing Will’s eyes up the line of his torso. “Isn’t that what you’re doing?”

Will glances down at his computer that has long ago gone into sleep mode, laughing as he closes it. “Hard to get any work done around here with you… looking like that.”

Hannibal grins, leaning over the lounge chair to press a wet, chlorine, kiss to his mouth. “I can feel your eyes on me, just so you’re aware. Beautiful man.”

Will rolls his eyes at that, stretching his legs out in the warmth of the sun. Hannibal’s regard of him hasn’t changed in the least, either. His husband insists that Will refuses to age, but it’s the farthest thing from the truth. He’s got a little gray at his temples. He’s got to work twice as hard now to stay in shape. He’s got a few creases around his eyes and his mouth when he smiles, but Hannibal doesn’t seem to notice any of it.

“Did you still want to go to the art exhibit tonight?” he asks while toweling himself dry. Hannibal has taken up art curating in his spare time, and he seems to enjoy it more than Will thought he would. 

“Of course,” Will replies with a smile. “I want to see the pieces that you’ve curated.”

Hannibal arches an eyebrow at that, a sarcastic little twist at the corners of his mouth. “Do you really?”

“Well,” Will laughs. “I want to see what you’re so proud of accomplishing. You can explain the art to me when I get there.”

Will loves him. Truly, he does. He just doesn’t specifically care too much about artwork. It’s something that still inspires annoyance from his husband, as though his taste in art should have refined along with his palate.

It has not.

No matter how many galleries and museums and exhibits he’s been taken to, he still doesn’t see the appeal. He still goes, of course. They both do things that they otherwise would never do for one another.

One thing that comes to mind is sailing. Will could easily live on the open water for months, but Hannibal… he goes green in minutes aboard the vessel, his stomach in knots until they get wherever they’re headed. He still goes, Dramamine clutched in his sweaty grip, every time Will wants to take their boat out for the afternoon. 

Nola. Named after where Will learned to sail in the first place, New Orleans, Louisiana. She’s taken them around the world and to her namesake, everywhere and anywhere they want to go. She’s a beautiful thing, all gleaming wood and chrome accents. She’s high-tech enough that Will feels spoiled rotten by her, and he loves her like a child, he’s that proud of his boat.

“There will be some people from the art society in Florence in attendance,” Hannibal tells him, fidgeting with his towel a bit before sitting at the edge of Will’s lounge chair. “If they like the pieces that I’ve curated, there’s a chance I’ll be asked to curate for the Uffizi Gallery.”

Will arches an eyebrow at him, smiling gently. “Something you’ve always wanted. Isn’t it… risky to go back there? Is there a chance someone will remember you?”

“It’s been thirty years,” Hannibal replies with a shrug. “I doubt it, and even if they did, I was not convicted of anything.”

“If that’s what you want,” Will assures him while leaning forward to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Then that’s where we go next. Do you know who the current curator is?”

“Antony Dimmond,” Hannibal replies. “I know next to nothing of him, but… he’s sent an email to me, requesting my presence tonight as he wishes to discuss something with me. I imagine it’s to hire me in Florence.”

“I’m happy for you,” Will says honestly, and Hannibal leans in for another kiss that Will gives him eagerly. “Really.”

“We should head inside and get the dogs managed,” Hannibal reminds him while pressing kisses to his throat. “I’ll make us dinner.”

They head inside, Hannibal heading straight to his grandiose kitchen while Will heads to the fridge to get the dog food pan out. Dixie and Ben are at his legs, whimpering and wagging their tails. “I’m feeding you, calm down,” Will laughs. 

Something about Dixie reminds Will of Winston. Her coat is nearly the same as his was, brawny orange with darker tones. She was just as fluffy, and just as much of a mutt as he was, too. He’s been gone for ten years, and Will feels his absence every day. He’s sure that Hannibal does, too. Winston was his shadow at one point, following him through the house and his chores so merrily that Hannibal could not help but fall in love with the little beast. 

When they found out that he was riddled with cancer and that he was suffering, they decided to put him down together. Hannibal hired a vet that came to the house, and after a long morning of treating Winston to all of his favorite things, they let him pass on in their Wolf Trap living room, in his favorite blankets.

He’s still buried there, by the cherry blossom tree.

Ben is nothing at all like Buster was. He’s a German shepherd, and he’s fiercely protective and intelligent. Will absolutely loves him, and he knows that Hannibal loves him just as much. He finds Hannibal sometimes, talking to him much the same as one would a child. Ben sits to his side, his head cocking at different words as though trying his best to understand. It’s frankly adorable.

They had lost Buster some fifteen years ago, now. He had already been a senior dog when Will took him in, but it never makes the loss easier. 

Once their dogs are taken care of, Will heads upstairs to the master bathroom to shower off the sunscreen and sweat from their afternoon outside. He picks out his suit for the night, a simple gray one that he matches with a starch white button down. It’s too hot in Spain for a tie, so he opts to wear the top three buttons undone, exposing his throat in the way that he knows makes Hannibal lose his control.

He loves to do that, really.

He heads back downstairs when he’s finished, going into the kitchen where Hannibal is egg washing a pie. He’s still in his swim trunks, a tiny little tee shirt tugged over his broad chest while he cooks. He looks more edible than the pie, in Will’s opinion.

“Do you know what you do to me?” Will asks as he comes around the counter to press a kiss to his husband’s bicep. Hannibal glances up at him briefly while he works, a little grin on his mouth.

“After two decades, no less,” Hannibal replies with a hint of pride in his voice. “You look exquisite, Will.”

“Kidney pie?” Will asks, glancing down at Hannibal’s hands while he works. He knows exactly what the pie is made of. 

The doctor that they went to when arranging their health insurance in Spain thought it was prudent to make a remark about getting tested for HIV because of their sexual orientation. As though they hadn’t been monogamous for twenty fucking years. When Will told the doctor that it wasn’t necessary to get tested because of their monogamy, he’d rolled his eyes and mumbled, “Yeah, right.”

Will killed him within the week. It was the doctor’s own fault for suggesting that either he or his husband would ever be unfaithful.

“Yes,” Hannibal replies. “With the meat you… procured for me.”

Will hums, leaning forward to press another kiss to his shoulder. “I’ll set the table, then.”

They settle out at the dining table, and Hannibal turns to Will after a sip of his wine. “Is Beverly still planning on bringing her family here next month?”

Will nods. He and Bev, regardless of distance, have remained close. Her husband Andrew is a very good man, and their daughter Lexie is the sweetest little girl that Will has ever met. Will is her God father, and he loves her like she is his own. “For two weeks, I think. They arrive the nineteenth.”

“I bought something for Lexie,” Hannibal admits with a grin. “A suture practice kit. I’m going to teach her different sutures when they come.”

“She’s fifteen,” Will laughs. “Don’t you think that’s a little weird?”

Hannibal tips his head haughtily, pursing his lips. “I knew I wanted to become a doctor at fifteen,” he says defensively. “She’s very smart, and very motivated. She wants to be a surgeon, and I will encourage her to do so. I wish there were practice kits like the one I got her when I was her age.”

“You didn’t need to practice,” Will replies dryly. “Your sutures are just fine.”

“Will Beverly be angry, do you think?” Hannibal wonders.

Will shakes his head while taking a bite of the delicious pie. “No. She’s just as weird as you are. Andrew might not like it, though. Tell me it doesn’t come with a silicone arm or something disgusting like that.”

Hannibal laughs, shaking his head. “It comes with a sample of… silicone skin. You can stitch and restitch the gaps in it. It’s very tasteful, I promise you.”

Will drops it. If Bev and Andrew don’t want her suturing silicone, they can tell Hannibal that when they come.

Hannibal showers and changes into a gorgeous black suit with a vivid red button down. It brings out the amber tones in his eyes, making them look like they glint the color of mahogany. He’s fiercely beautiful, and Will feels pride when they walk into the gallery, arm in arm.

Hannibal takes his time walking Will around the exhibit, showing him each and every piece he’s curated, while explaining why he’s brought it here in the first place. The low, gravelly quality of his voice lulls Will a bit while he listens attentively.

A few patrons come up to Hannibal to speak to him about the art, and Will touches his arm. “I’m going to get us a drink?”

Hannibal nods, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek. “A chardonnay, please.”

“Coming right up,” Will smiles.

He goes to the bar and orders a glass of chardonnay for his husband and a whiskey for himself, and he gets stuck there when Carlos comes over to chat with him. He’s a nice enough man, but… he can talk endlessly about nothing at all. He works at the gallery, and he idolizes Hannibal and Will in a way that would be sweet if it weren’t so obnoxious. “Did he take you around and show you the pieces?” he asks animatedly. 

“He did,” Will replies with a little smile. “He’s so proud of his work here. You should be proud, too.”

Carlos blushes, sweeping his dark hair away from his forehead. “He couldn’t wait for you to come see,” he says with a laugh. “We were talking with Paulo Bianchi, and he was saying that-”

Will lets his mind drift off, as whatever Carlos is saying could be a while. His eyes drift from Carlos’ young face, towards his husband who has quite a little gathering around him. There’s a man that Will doesn’t recognize that’s speaking with him, and his proximity to Hannibal is… infuriating. 

The man is possibly the same age as they are, perhaps a few years younger. He’s handsome in a very classical way, curly dark hair and bright blue eyes. His smile is flirtatious as he reaches out and touches Hannibal’s bicep, leaning in close enough that it provokes Hannibal to lean away in response.

“Carlos,” Will interjects, pausing his tirade. “I’m sorry, but Hannibal just called me over.”

“Oh,” he says dejectedly. “Well, I suppose I should see to our guests.”

Will ignores him, taking their glasses over and wedging himself between Hannibal and his new admirer pointedly. The man’s eyes sparkle with mischief as he watches Will get between them, handing Hannibal his glass of wine while wrapping his arm around his waist. “Forgive me,” Will says politely. “I was speaking with Carlos.”

Hannibal grins knowingly at that, pressing a kiss to Will’s temple. “Understandable, then. Will, I’d like you to meet Antony Dimmond. Antony, this is my husband, Will Lecter.”

Antony’s smile is wide as he reaches for Will’s hand, his bleach-white teeth glinting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says in a distinguished, British accent. “I was just trying to steal your husband away to Florence.”

Will grits his teeth at the implication, the true meaning of his words entirely not lost on him in the least. “Hannibal adores Italy,” he says as politely as he can, which isn’t all that much. “It’s been a dream of his to work for the Uffizi Gallery.”

Antony’s eyes slide over to Hannibal again, gliding inappropriately along his face, then his body. “There’s no doubt that Italy would adore him in return. He has excellent taste, after all.”

“My husband and I would need to speak about it,” Hannibal replies, glancing to Will carefully. “His work is just as important as my own, and we’ve only recently settled here. Moving again so soon, especially for a permanent position, is worthy of discussion.”

“For the chance to work with you, I would be willing to give you _any_ position you desired,” Antony replied silkily while Will chokes on his drink. “No matter how… _uncomfortable_ it may be.”

“I would not wish to create problems with my unreliable schedule,” Hannibal replied slowly. “There’s no reason why the gallery should suffer because I cannot attend to it as I should. Will and I love to travel, so perhaps it’s best I should turn down your gracious offer.”

“I believe you should think on it,” Antony grinned, sipping on his glass of champagne. “I’d be willing to work with whatever you had to offer, no matter how… fleeting. Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s a double fisted kind of bash, and I’ve only my one drink.”

Will stares at him while he drifts away, his hand snatching another champagne flute as he passes a server. “I am killing him,” Will says softly, drawing a low chuckle from his husband.

“He’s a flirt, but it’s harmless,” Hannibal assures him. “I want to work there, Will. He is the key to doing so.”

“Over my _dead_ , rotting, body, will you be working closely with… with,” Will swigs his whiskey, shaking his head. “ _Never_ going to happen.”

“Do you believe I’d ever be unfaithful to you?” Hannibal asks lowly, and Will sighs. “Do you think his pompous attitude and overt flirtations could ever draw my eyes from you?”

Will shakes his head again, glancing up at his husband with a little smile. “No, I don’t think anything like that.”

“He’d like to come for dinner one night to go over the offer,” Hannibal replies softly. “Perhaps we can hear what he’d like from me, and… we can decide then.”

Will nods reluctantly, frowning into his drink. “He has to stop flirting,” he says darkly, glancing up at Hannibal pointedly. “He has to. I _won’t_ stand for it.”

“I’ll say something next time,” Hannibal assures him, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. “This means a great deal to me, beloved.”

Will sighs, allowing some of the tension in his shoulders to relax. “I know it does,” he says softly. “Go find the jerk and tell him to come for dinner tomorrow night.”

Hannibal laughs, leaning forward kiss him softly. “I love you, you know.”

“Yeah,” Will grins, touching his cheek to pull him in for another kiss. “I know.”

Antony accepts the dinner invite, much to Will’s dismay, and Hannibal goes shopping early the next morning to get everything he’d need to make the meal. Will takes the time to clean the house up a bit, and when Hannibal comes home, Will helps him chop vegetables and filet the fish he bought at the market.

Will doesn’t give four shits about impressing Antony, but… he still wants to look good for Hannibal. He wears his best, royal blue button down shirt, and wears no tie. Both the shirt and his slacks are ridiculously fitted, and the fabric molds and fits around him like a second skin. He shaves his face clean, and with the stubble goes ten years from his face. 

When he comes downstairs, Hannibal glances up at him briefly and does an immediate double-take. A knife clatters to the floor, his elegant husband’s mouth hanging open. “Will,” he breathes. “You are a beauty.”

A little flare of vain pride pulses through him that he can still provoke a reaction like that after all this time. He heads straight to the kitchen, bending to pick up the knife and put it in the sink before snatching his husband’s mouth in a kiss. “And I’m yours,” Will replies softly, pressing kisses to his mouth, then his jaw. “All yours.”

Hannibal groans at that, easing his arms around his waist to tug him closer when the doorbell rings. Will pulls away with a little frown, pressing one more kiss to his mouth as he walks away. “I’ll get it,” Will sighs.

Antony has dressed up, too. He’s wearing a gorgeous sky-blue button-down, slim-fit to highlight his narrow waist. “Will,” he says with a warm smile while extending a hand to shake. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Sure,” Will replies, shaking his hand reluctantly. “Come in, Hannibal is just finishing up in the kitchen.”

Antony walks in, noting the two dogs in the living room as well as the house itself. “Beautiful home,” he says absently. As he leaves the foyer, he sees Hannibal in the kitchen and his smile widens. “With a _stunning_ view.”

Will rolls his eyes and takes the bottle of wine from Antony’s extended hand, heading into the kitchen to open it. “Good evening, Antony,” Hannibal says warmly while putting the fish in the oven. 

“Hannibal,” he says with a smile. “Don’t tell me you’re a cook, besides?”

“My husband is excellent at mostly everything he puts his mind to,” Will replies, nudging Hannibal’s hip with his own and earning a chuckle for it. “He cooks, he writes music, he takes classes, he’s got a double-doctorate,” Will lists with a laugh. “He’s… extraordinary.”

“It seems so,” Antony agrees with a chuckle. Will hands him a glass of the shitty red wine he brought with him, and he takes it absently, still sliding his greasy eyes all over Hannibal. “You’re very lucky to have a partner that gives you so much space to do as you please.”

“Will and I have our individual hobbies, it’s true,” Hannibal says while sauteing vegetables. “However, most of the attributes he’s listed happened before I met him. He’s the center of my attention, now.”

“As I should be,” Will teases while sneaking a red bell pepper slice from the cutting board. 

“Will,” Hannibal laughs, and Will takes another one for the hell of it. 

“I didn’t think you’d be one for dogs,” Antony says while glancing over at them in the living room. “Messy things.”

“Will has always had them,” Hannibal replies. “When we met, he had two that were wonderful animals. I’ve grown to love them as much as he does.”

“How long ago was that?” Antony wonders, and Will smirks.

“Twenty years ago,” he says proudly. “Time flies.”

“Twenty years with the same person,” Antony says with a chuckle. “I can’t imagine it. To me it’s like eating the same meal, over and over again. Much more fun to have something different every night.”

“Then you suffer from a lack of imagination,” Will replies bitterly. “There was a point before me where Hannibal may have agreed with you, but… sharing a connection with someone else is unlike any fleeting encounter you might have.”

“Sharing my life with you has been a gift I would not trade for anything in the world,” Hannibal says softly, glancing at Will with such affection that Will almost melts into the floor. “I’m also very lucky, as I married the most beautiful man on earth.”

“He’s very lucky,” Antony says dryly, sipping his disgusting wine. “As you are… quite a rare man. Beautifully exotic.”

Will grits his teeth while helping Hannibal plate their dinner, and then they sit at the dining table to eat. “This is delicious,” Antony says approvingly. “Decadent. Thank you for inviting me.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Hannibal replies with a grin. 

“Now I hate to drag business into pleasure,” Antony says with a sigh and Will contains his eye roll only barely. “But I’d be willing to offer you a traveling position if you’d desire such a thing. I’ve seen what you were able to do at your gallery. Working remotely does not seem to trouble you.”

“Carlos does most of the work in the gallery,” Hannibal concedes with a shrug. “So long as you don’t mind doing most of the work in the Uffizi, then I think we could work something out. We are willing to move there for a few months to a year, but I cannot promise that we’d be staying indefinitely.”

“Sharing the workload with someone who procures more pieces would lessen my burden,” Antony says with a grin. “As of right now, I do all of it with no help what-so-ever. It’s quite tiring.”

“I can imagine,” Hannibal agrees after a bite of fish. “I would leave my current position at my gallery, as I do not have time to devote to both places.”

“Would you like to do something as crass as discuss the money? Or would you prefer that I draw up a contract and send it to you?” 

“The contract would be fine,” Hannibal replies. “I do not do this for the money. It’s a passion, for me.”

“Regardless,” Antony grins. “I’ll make your _passion_ worth the effort.”

Will sighs, dropping his fork in his plate. He waits for Hannibal to say something, but his stubborn man just… doesn’t. Antony glances at Will with a teasing smirk on his face. “Now that business and dinner are done,” Antony says silkily. “Perhaps we can discuss pleasure.”

Will’s eyebrows furrow while Hannibal clears his throat. “Pleasure?” Will asks stupidly.

“I find I’d very much like to _sample_ the dish that you’ve had for the last twenty years,” he says boldly, his eyes twinkling as he glances at Hannibal while licking his lips. 

“He’s _not_ on the menu,” Will replies darkly, gripping his fork in his hand. If the stupid man kept talking, Antony might be, though.

“Mr. Dimmond,” Hannibal says with a huff of annoyance in his voice. “While I appreciate the career opportunity, I must tell you that any other offers are very much unwelcomed. Will and I… we do not share, and I have no interest in anyone other than my husband.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” he says with a low chuckle. “Here I was, hoping it was that kind of party.”

“It isn’t,” Will says darkly, staring intensely at Antony while gripping his fork tightly in his hand.

“I wouldn’t like sharing him either,” Antony agrees with a flirtatious grin while shrugging. “Neither of you can tell me with any sincerity that you’ve never been with anyone else since you’ve been married. How terribly dull for you both. If it’s because your husband is a jealous man, I wouldn’t mind giving him a go, first. Or he could watch? I have no objections to either.”

“I fear you’ve worn out your welcome,” Hannibal says lowly, his eyes glinting dangerously. “I’ve changed my mind, Mr. Dimmond. I have no interest in working with you after all.”

“You’re taking the piss,” Antony says with an awkward laugh. 

“He’s not,” Will says with a tip of his head. “I think it’s time you got the fuck out of my house, don’t you?”

“Forgive me,” Antony says, looking down in embarrassment. “I’ve severely misjudged the situation.”

“Clearly,” Will agrees with a raised eyebrow. “I'd still like your pompous ass out of my house.”

“Hannibal,” Antony sighs, standing from the table awkwardly. “It would have been a _pleasure_ , I’m sure.”

“Ben,” Will says loudly, and their German shepherd comes into the dining area, growling low in the back of his throat.

“I’m leaving,” Antony says while chuckling. “Jealous _wretch_ ,” he mumbles under his breath.

He leaves the house abruptly, and Will turns to Hannibal with a clenched jaw. “I wanted to kill him.”

“I know you did,” Hannibal replies, taking a sip of his wine. He grimaces immediately and sets the glass down. “He brought a ghastly bottle of wine with him.”

Will crosses his arms, settling back in his seat. He’s still so mad he could spit nails, and Hannibal doesn’t seem concerned in the least. “That’s all you have to say?”

“The entire art community in Florence knows that Antony was here tonight,” Hannibal says pointedly while rubbing his palm down Will’s tense shoulder. “We have to wait. I promise you that we will kill him. Just not here, and not now.”

Will stands from his chair, walking around the table to press a kiss to Hannibal’s mouth. “Maybe in a week or two we take a trip with Nola,” Will says with a grin. “I hear Florence is nice this time of year.”

“We couldn’t stay afterwards,” Hannibal says while tugging Will into his lap. He presses kisses to Will’s throat, skimming his fingers down his back. “No one could ever know we were there.”

“One night is plenty of time,” Will says with a grin, tipping his head back to make more room for his husband’s mouth. “I want to display him. He wanted you. My heart that lives outside of my body.”

“I’m sure we can think of something,” Hannibal says distractedly while easing Will’s thighs apart to cup his arousal through his slacks. “Right now, I’m thinking about something else, though.”

Will snorts a laugh, leaning forward to capture his mouth with his own. 

They barely make it to the stairs, never mind to the bedroom. Will tugs his shirt open while Hannibal tears Will’s own shirt off, buttons flying and spraying the marble floors. They at least make it to the chaise lounge in the study, and Will shoves him down on it, tugging his pants and his boxer-briefs off all at one time. 

Will takes the little jar of lube from Hannibal’s desk, dropping it by his husband’s hip. He undoes his own slacks and pulls them off, kicking his shoes and underwear off with them. “You’re beautiful,” Hannibal sighs while Will straddles the lounge chair, gripping them both in his palm to jerk them gently. “I can’t understand why he’d want me at all when you’re sitting in front of him, looking the way that you do.”

“Because you’re biased,” Will replies with a laugh. “And you don’t see yourself clearly. You are striking. Gorgeous. Your self-confidence is fucking _magnetic_. People don’t stand a chance.”

Hannibal sighs when Will twists his wrist just so, working the heads of their cocks at the same time. “People look at you, too. Carlos is enamored by you.”

“Carlos likes to hear himself talk,” Will chuckles. “It has very little to do with me.”

“He’s not like that with anyone but you,” Hannibal replies breathlessly. “When you walk in, he’s suddenly tongue-tied and smitten, striving for a moment of your attention. I’ve considered killing him for it, but... poor creature can barely get a glance from you. Cruel thing.”

Will’s wrist pauses, and he stares down at his husband in shock. “He doesn’t flap his mouth like that for everyone?”

“No,” Hannibal laughs. “Only you. Do you truly not see how he looks at you?”

Will shrugs, biting his lip. “Not at all. Don’t kill him, he’s… a poor thing.”

“I’m not going to kill him,” Hannibal promises him while easing his fingers into the jar of lube. “Now turn around, please.”

“Have plans, do we?” Will asks with a laugh.

“Yes,” Hannibal says seriously while slapping Will’s thigh. “Turn around.”

Will grins while standing from the chaise, turning around so his legs straddle the bench, and he faces away from his husband. Slick fingers ease inside of him, and Will groans while arching his back, sinking them further inside with a drop of his hips. “You know I prefer seeing your face,” Will says with a moan as Hannibal brushes that spot inside of him pointedly. 

“As endlessly beautiful as your face is,” Hannibal drawls while grasping Will’s ass in his hand, squeezing the flesh there briefly before slapping it. Will flinches, twisting his body to glare back at his husband in warning and earning a chuckle for it. “I love seeing your body make room for me like this.”

“You like my ass,” Will replies tartly, groaning while Hannibal spreads him open with three fingers. 

“I love it,” Hannibal laughs. His fingers are withdrawn, and there’s a brief few seconds before Hannibal lifts Will’s hips and settles him over his cock. Will feels like teasing him, so he plants his feet on the floor and lets his cock slip by his entrance a few times, earning himself a throaty little groan for it. “Will,” he warns lowly and Will laughs.

He takes pity on his husband eventually, gripping the base of his cock while he eases himself down onto it. Will secretly loves it this way, as he feels so fucking deep that he should be able to feel him in his stomach. It’s not quite that deep, he knows, but it certainly feels that way.

Will takes a minute to adjust, rocking himself gently to stretch himself, and Hannibal grips his hips while a low moan escapes his throat. Will leans forward so his hands are against the end of the chaise, lifting and dropping his hips slowly. He knows his husband is watching the show, and he grins when he feels Hannibal’s fingers stroke around his entrance, feeling him where he’s stretching Will open.

“How’s that?” Will asks breathlessly while working himself over his husband’s cock. Hannibal grips his ass cheeks, spreading him open further. At this angle, Hannibal brushes his prostate with every move he makes, and Will’s muscles are twitching from the relentless pleasure of it. 

“You are exquisite,” Hannibal moans while sliding his hands over the curve of his ass, gripping his narrow waist. “Made for me, beloved.”

It still blows Will’s mind that his husband worships him like this. Even without his empathy catching and snaring on Hannibal’s reverent emotions, he would know exactly how Hannibal feels. His hands don’t know where to land even after all this time. They slide from his hips to his waist. His fingers trail his spine and then back to his ass. The noises he’s making are wrecked little sounds, all adoring and lost to pleasure.

Will understands entirely, as he feels the same way.

He sits up abruptly, dropping his full weight into Hannibal’s lap and taking his cock impossibly deep inside of himself, and Hannibal grips his hips tightly in surprise. Will feels speared open like this, and the long moan he makes while rotating his hips in a little circle is wanton and loud, his face tipped toward the ceiling while he takes his pleasure.

“Will,” Hannibal gasps, slapping Will’s ass lightly to get his attention. “Turn around. Please.”

Will thinks about sassing him, but he doesn’t. He wants to kiss him, and the desire to see his face is completely unignorable anymore.

Will stands up, and Hannibal groans when he’s pulled from Will’s body. It’s only for a moment as Will straddles his waist again, sinking himself over him again quickly. Hannibal sits up, tugging Will’s thighs higher while gripping his ass again, and Will laughs. “Missed my mouth, did you?”

Hannibal grins while thrusting into him, hitting that spot squarely. Will clenches around him, coaxing a devastated little noise from his husband. “Always,” he sighs.

Will doesn’t tease him. He grips the soft hair at the nape of his neck, dragging him in for a kiss that’s just soft tongue and parted mouths, their harsh breaths shared between them. “I fucking _adore_ you,” Will gasps while Hannibal thrusts into him harder, making their noses bump and his cock leak between their bellies. “Love you.”

Hannibal grips him tighter to himself, thrusting into him with abandon while Will wraps his arms around his neck. Hannibal sucks bruises against his throat and his collarbone, panting against his skin. “Will,” he sighs, tucking his face against Will’s throat. 

The intensity of it is too much, and Will gasps as he comes between their stomachs. His mouth parts as he lets out a moan, and Hannibal seals his mouth over his, licking and sucking at his lips. Will clenches around him while he thrusts up into his body a few more times, milking him through his release. Hannibal holds him tight while they come down together, his lips pressing soft kisses to the new bruises on Will’s throat.

“You are…” Hannibal says softly while kissing his way up Will’s jawline towards his mouth. “The love of my life.”

Will laughs, leaning away enough that he can kiss him fully. “I hope so. After all this time.”

“For the next twenty years,” Hannibal promises him. “For the next hundred. For every moment with you until I no longer draw breath, I’ll love you.”

“You’re not…” Will hesitates, glancing away from the intensity of his husband’s eyes. “Upset? You wanted to work at the gallery more than anything.”

“I have everything I’ve ever wanted, Will,” he says sincerely while touching Will’s jaw with his fingertips. “ _You_. I don’t give much of a damn for anything else.”

Will smiles softly at that, stroking his fingers along his cheekbones, then the creases near his eyes that happen when he’s smiling the way he is. “How good are you at origami?” 

Hannibal quirks an eyebrow at him, chuckling softly. “Fairly good, actually. Why?”

“I’ve got an idea,” Will shrugs, leaning forward to kiss him again. “But it’ll take some planning.”

“We have a few weeks for that,” Hannibal assures him while pressing another kiss to his throat. “Anything, Will.”

The Polizia in Florence have never seen anything like the scene that’s left for them in the Norman Chapel. A man, folded into an anatomical heart, sits squarely in front of the altar. 

It’s beautiful and horrible, inciting outrage and fear in the locals. There hasn’t been a display like this in at least thirty years, and the only ones that remember it are long gone, now. 

The Uffizi Gallery is devastated to lose their curator in such a way, but they have someone in mind as a replacement. Doctor Lecter was not interested in a part-time position, but they planned to call and see if a full-time position suited him more. The art community in Florence would be thankful to get him, but everyone seems to agree that they won’t tell him what happened to the previous curator.

They didn’t want to frighten him off, after all.

__

_So I'll love whatever you become_  
And forget the reckless things we've done  
I think our lives have just begun  
I think our lives have just begun 

_-Muse, Falling Away With You_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END, FOLKS! Writing this has taken up SO VERY MUCH of my time over the last three months. I started this story (roughly) in September-ish? It was vaguely more than an idea, really. The idea being that I wanted Will and Hannibal to have the MOST creative sex that I could write while they were both young and healthy. I am embarrassed to admit, it wasn't much more than that at the time. Somehow, 190K words later, its become this thing. 
> 
> You guys have been AMAZING. Every word and kudos you leave me fuels the Hannigram fire. 
> 
> I am not done in this fandom. Rather just getting started, I think. I've got some one-shots lined up, one of them being a fake-marriage arrangement between these two clueless idiots post-fall. 
> 
> EDIT: I AM SORRY ABOUT WINSTON AND BUSTER. If I could figure out a way to realistically keep them alive for 20+ years, i would do it. I loved them just as much as Hannibal did, and writing them off like that SUCKED. <333
> 
> Thank you guys. Seriously. <3


End file.
